Happily Never After
by CopeWithTheFeels
Summary: The kiss does not work. Desperate, and ready to die, Christine choses the grasshopper. But the grasshopper doesn't jump...
1. Christine Turns the Grasshopper

I truly don't mind who you imagine as Christine, Erik or Raoul, as we all have our own favorites. This is my first try at writing multi-chapter stories, and I truly hope you enjoy it! 

"The choice is yours," Erik said, smirking. "Turn the grasshopper, and the Opera House is blown into tiny pieces, taking us with it!"

Erik smiled in delight as Raoul's eyes widened with fear, his face turning white from the lack of circulation caused by the Punjab lasso being tight around his neck.

"But, if you decide to turn the scorpion, Raoul will be freed, and you shall remain with me, till death do us part!" Christine felt her eyes tearing up, her heart beating faster.

"My Angel of Music…" Christine sang. "I know there is good in you!"

Erik laughed. His laugh bounced off the dark walls, haunting… menacing.

"If there wasn't, how would I ever fall in love with you?" Christine smiled apologetically. Of course she was lying. He was a monster, the devil himself! How could anyone fall in love with _him_? But lying wasn't the only thing she was willing to do to get out of his _caves_.

Her words made Erik wince. _Love. _It was such an uncommon word for him. Could it be that Christine would truly fall in love with him? That she could possibly feel affection towards him? In spite of his futile situation, Erik felt hope. His dream of being with her never felt completely impossible, however strange it was.

"Erik... Erik, please," she whispered. Tears were streaming down her face. Even in such circumstances, she was beautiful… Her chest was heaving, which made him want her even more. Oh how perfect she was… He approached her, and placed his hand on her cheek. Despite her disgust, Christine let him touch her. If this was going to save her, she was going to do it.

Erik stroked her perfect skin, tracing her cheekbone with his finger. If her love for Raoul were stronger than her hate for Erik, she would save them all, and spend the rest of her days with him. It was simple.

"Erik let us go. Let us go, for God's sake!" Christine cried, breaking his train of thought. Erik stepped away from Christine. So that was what she wanted. To leave with the boy, leaving Erik alone.

"That's not one of your choices," Erik replied, coldly, his eyes bearing into hers. "You either spend your life with me, or die. Make your choice…"

"Angel of Music…" Christine sang, making Erik turn around. Hope sparked in her eyes… "You deceived me, I gave my mind, blindly!" her voice broke off, as she sobbed silently. Erik walked to her, close enough to comfort her, but not daring to do so.

Christine did not know what to do. What else could she say to make him change his mind? What possible action could warm his heart enough for him to let them go?

Suddenly she had an idea.

"Pitiful creature of darkness…" She sang, quiet at first but getting louder. That confused Erik. What was she doing? He searched for clues in her eyes to find nothing.

"What kind of life have you known?" Christine continued. Apart from being a singer, she could also act, which came in handy. She forced tears out of her eyes as she pretended to care for this animal that held her hostage.

"God give me courage to show you… You are not alone!" Christine gathered all her willpower, and closing her eyes to make the experience less dreadful, _kissed_ Erik.

Erik's feelings differed greatly from hers. He has never kissed a woman before. Her lips were soft and her body against his was warm and homelike. _Homelike… _Erik did not remember the last time he has ever thought that of anyone… anything. He did not know how to react, so he stood still, barely breathing.

The repugnance and nausea Christine felt was overcame her; she broke off the kiss and backed away, sobbing. Oh, how she hoped the kiss changed Erik's mind!

Erik, still silent, looked into her eyes. There was no sound aside from the rapid intakes of breath coming from Raoul, who was nearly dead. Christine dared not to look away, so she stared back, wiping tears off her cheeks.

As much as he wanted it to be true, Erik knew that Christine's love for him was not real. He knew what he was. And she knew it, too. He was no fool. His face could not possibly be a subject of affection for anyone.

"Make your choice," he whispered, his voice hoarse, but loud. He was scared. No, not of dying. Erik was scared that Christine would turn the grasshopper as that would mean that death was more pleasant to her than life with him.

Realizing what her future held, Christine understood that luck had turned her back on her. There was no way out. She no longer wanted to cry. She knew that she had to decide, or Erik would decide for her.

She looked at Erik, trying to force herself to feel love towards him, but all she felt was loathe! Turning her gaze to Raoul, she forced herself to smile. "Sorry" she murmured, saying her good-byes. There was no turning back now. Looking back to the small replicas of two insects, she placed her hand on the grasshopper, and turned it.

The silence in the room was deadly. Even Raoul was quiet, waiting for the explosion. One could hear the distant dripping of water, possibly from a leaking pipe.

Christine had her eyes closed, trying to shut off her senses.

After what seemed like hours, the silence was broken. "What… how…" Raoul coughed out questions, unable to complete his sentences.

Christine opened her eyes to look at Erik. "I thought you said it would blow us all up. You said if I turn the grasshopper, the Opera House would be blown into pieces!" She stuttered, panicking.

Erik smiled. A poisonous, mocking, artificial smile.

"I lied."


	2. The Wrong Choice

"You lied?" Christine whispered.

Raoul continued his agonized breathing, following by grunts and gasps. His face was slowly turning blue, and his eyes looked like they were going to pop out. His feet were struggling to lift his body higher off the ground, to loosen the rope in order to get more air into his lungs.

Erik stood, smiling. "Yes, dear" he said. He seemed calm and composed, but inside emotions were bursting. He felt agony, as the love of his life chose death over him. But he was also in a state of triumph as he enjoyed the pain and confusion in her eyes. He saw how betrayed she felt, and that couldn't compare to what he felt when she agreed to plot against him, to pretend to love him to later trap and murder him. She deserved every bit of it.

"Why…" Christine sobbed, "What are you going to do with me?"

"Shh…" Erik put a skinny, long finger to his lips. "Don't spoil the perfect moment!" he murmured, playfully. He was enjoying himself. Christine continued sobbing, and Raoul's grunts and gasps were music to his ears.

He raised his hands, as if he was a conductor, swaying. He closed his eyes, humming some strange tune.

"Stop!" Christine cried. This was enough. "You torture us, make me chose. And when I do, you don't even carry out your promise! I chose death over a lifetime with you!"

Erik's hands froze in the air, his eyes opened. His yellow pupils were bright in the darkness of his "room". "You did," he mused, "You chose the death of _hundreds_ of people over a lifetime with me. To think of it, you might be more cruel than me!" he exclaimed, mockingly.

Christine sobbed, dropping to her knees. What could he do? The not knowing scared her more than death. He was Erik. He could do anything. "Just kill me now!" she begged, covering her face with her hands. She could not bear to look at him anymore.

"I will, I will…" Erik sang, stroking her head. With a quick motion, he grabbed a chunk of her hair, and pulled it back, yanking her head backwards, forcing her to face him. Christine squealed and Raoul, attempting to cry for help, wheezed, choking. "Such an impolite little girl, look at _me _when I am talking to you," he uttered, pronouncing each word like he was punishing a six-year-old.

Erik pushed Christine to the floor, turning to Raoul.

"Raoul de Chagny," Erik said. He licked his thin lips, resembling a snake. "Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked. He stood for some time, inches away from Raoul's face. "She didn't even consider your pathetic little life, did she?" he whispered, only for Raoul to hear. "Did she?" he repeated, louder.

Behind him, Christine's fragile body was shaking with sobs. She made her way over to the two caskets, her trembling hands reaching for the grasshopper. She turned the little figurine again and again, not knowing what she was doing it for, hoping for a miracle.

Erik, distracted by the noise, turned around. Seeing what Christine was doing made him laugh, and his terrible laugh made Christine's hands tremble even more, her whole body shiver in fear.

While Erik was laughing, Raoul was busy untying his hands, and getting his neck out of the tight knot Erik had skillfully tied. After he freed his hands he grabbed the knife he hid in the inside pocket of his pants he cut the noose that has almost taken his life.

Christine saw Raoul's progress, and to distract Erik, sobbed, shuddering more violently, which made Erik laugh even louder. "You silly girl, you should have been more sensible!" he shouted, in between laughs. He was a madman… a lunatic!

Looking around, Christine noticed that the cave walls were covered in hooks with Punjab lassos on them. Erik approached the nearest one, grabbing the lasso and slowly walking to Christine. He had a thoughtful expression, as if he was deciding on how to kill her.

"Angel of Music!" Christine attempted to sing, trying to win time, but failing as her voice cracked and broke off.

"Without your voice, my darling," Erik chuckled, "You're not so special now, are you?"

Knowing that if he didn't act now, it would be too late, Raoul said, "Let her go!" Erik turned around, almost looking scared for a moment. Christine rushed to Raoul, standing behind him, using his body as her shield. Raoul raised his knife, threatening Erik. "Let us go, and you can live,"

"Oh my! Such a generous offer, monsieur!" Erik exclaimed, with a smirk. "How about you both stay," he hissed, clenched his hands around his Punjab lasso and swiftly surrounded the couple, ready to kill.

But for once, the Opera Ghost was outsmarted. Raoul, who was hiding a gun behind his back all along, took it out and shot Erik. He aimed for his heart, but the bullet sunk into his stomach. Erik gasped in pain, his eyes widening, his mouth gaping open. He fell onto the floor, coughing up blood.

Raoul, scared of what he has done, as he was just a foolish little boy with a dangerous weapon, backed away, dropping his gun. Christine, however, only thinking of a way to escape, searched the room for a way out. She found the right switch for the gate, and without a word to either one her suitors, ran out, searching for the boat to cross the lake.

"Once more, forgotten," Erik whispered to Raoul, chuckling darkly. Raoul came to his senses and rushed after Christine.

Erik lay there, bleeding. His stomach hurt, but all he could think of was revenge. The smell of blood, even of his own, aroused him, made him want more. He heard distant words and shouts as the couple found the boat, and were heading to the stairs, the exit out of his territory.

They thought it was the end. They thought Raoul's bullet wounded Erik fatally. They thought without anyone to help him, Erik would bleed to his death. They thought Erik would finally leave them alone, in peace.

They thought wrong.

"There will be no happily ever after" Erik choked, smiling, his lips covered in blood, his face pale but his yellow pupils bright.


	3. Time Heals Wounds

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

Erik lay on the floor, in silence.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

The distant dribbling of a leaking pipe was calming, a steady rhythm.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

He was in agony, but somehow, the pain made him feel more alive.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

He did not know how much time had passed, or how much he had left.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

All he knew was how much he hated Christine and Raoul.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

How much he sought revenge.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

His uncontrollable hunger. No, not for food, but for blood.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

Unable to move, he spent his days lying on the stone cold floor. Waiting for the blood flow to stop. Counting time left until he can rise from his tunnels, and find the ones who did this to him.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

He was not going to be satisfied easily. Raoul. Then Christine. Philip de Chagny. His list was infinite. _Everyone _was guilty.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

His dark cloak was covered in sticky blood. His hands were stained with brown blood, collected over days. His mask was off, somewhere in a corner. He has not worn it for days now. His face looked even more terrifying with the dark splatters of blood covering it.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

The wound was not fatal. The bullet was buried somewhere in his stomach. He could not get up nor walk. Yet.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

Suddenly, the sound of little paws scurrying from corner to corner accompanied the dripping sound. Still as a rock, Erik waited. He was a skilled predator, and the little rat was an easy prey. Fast as a lightning, Erik's hand reached out and caught the little tail. Using the dagger Raoul dropped Erik took no time to skin his victim. He devoured his kill with sickening appetite, drinking its blood and swallowing the flesh whole. Rats were his only source of food for over a week now.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

As time passed, he regained his energy. His hands stopped the uncontrollable shaking, and he could move once again. As ironic as it may sound, Erik was a fancy dresser. As soon as his feet were able to support his body, he changed into a new set of clothes, though it differed slightly from his old.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

Approaching a mirror, Erik smiled. "Well, well, well," he sang, "I have not had the pleasure of seeing you in such a long time now, monsieur!" Over long years of loneliness, Erik found that his best companion is, well, he himself. "But don't you worry, I am going to make up for that time," he contemplated, turning away from the mirror.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

He noticed a small his little toy monkey on the floor. "Another friend! Oh how I missed you all," he said, picking it up. His nose was broken off, and blood splatters covered his face. Erik turned his key, and waited in silence until the music played, and the monkey moved its hands, banging the cymbals to the tune. "Now you're just like me… such a pitiful sight, your music is all you are good for," he said coldly, more talking to himself rather than the monkey.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

Placing the doll gently on the table, he picked up his mask, adjusting it on his face. Erik then licked his hands and swiftly smoothened his hair. "I must go now," he said apologetically to his monkey.

"I have some uncompleted business to attend to!" he whispered, his words dissolving in the quiet of the night.


	4. The First Kill

The night was pitch-black and silent. A tall, skinny man was hurriedly walking down a dark long alley. With his face covered by a mask and a hood and his body wrapped in a long coat, his skin was barely visible. It seemed as if the moon and the stars were hiding, scared of the mysterious silhouette.

A group of teenagers approached the hooded figure, asking for the time. He merely stopped to reward them with a stone-cold look, which was enough to send them scurrying away, shudders racking their body.

Erik had little time on the silly boys. He had a bigger mission.

Erik left his lair that evening to kill, and he was not going back until blood was shed. He was still not fully recovered, which was why he was carrying his knife, rather than his traditional Punjab lasso that required strength to kill, which Erik had little of.

Erik was heading towards the house of the Chagnys, as that was where his first victim was.

Unable to resist the urge, Erik smiled at the thought of what the night held for him. Finally, revenge. At last, he was going to get what he was craving for, all this time. His long forgotten love for Christine could not compare to the lust for blood he felt, the hunger for murder.

He has been fantasizing about this moment for so long, and now it has finally arrived. He spent long nights and even longer days stretched out on the cold floors of his underground tunnels, hurting with all his body, agony consuming him, making it hard for him to think. All he wanted was revenge. Vengeance. And now he was going to get it.

Turning right at the nearest corner, he accelerated. Oh, he simply could not wait. He could see the house now, most of the lights out, the windows showing no sign of life.

"_Good, they are all sleeping," _Erik thought to himself, glad that he did not need to deal with the Chagny's resistance and struggles.

Erik quickly climbed the brick wall. He had a lot of practice in his tunnels, as wall-climbing skills were a necessity when setting up traps and snares.

Erik looked into the window, and saw a dim-lit room. The room was exceptionally neat, with a large wardrobe and an even bigger mirror. _"Self-obsessed, haughty little egoist!" _Erik thought, smirking at the abnormally large mirror. There was a large bed, decorated in the most beautiful ways possible. But in the bed, there was _one _man. Unable to see who it was, Erik quietly climbed through the window, and mutely stood by the bed, gazing upon the sleeping one's face.

_"Philip de Chagny… the older brother," _Erik figured, as the boy looked much more masculine and older than Raoul. Realizing his mistake, Erik headed for the window, but hesitated halfway.

_"I could kill this one," _Erik pondered, referring to the older brother, _"that would send a rather clear message… besides, I would rather have my strength fully restored by the time I get to Raoul," _he decided.

Taking out his knife, Erik realized he did not know what he was going to do. He spent his lonely tortured nights fantasizing, rather planning, and now, finally in front of his helpless victim, he had no strategy.

But Erik, being the criminal mastermind of his generation, took little time to come up with a plan. Noiselessly and swiftly, he used his knife to cut a chunk of material off the velvet sheets, and crumpling it up, inserted it into the young man's mouth.

Still not quite awake and confused, the Count blinked repeatedly, his mind slowly sinking into the situation. However, that did not stop Erik.

The easy way would be to kill the Count first, but Erik was much lower than that. He was going to make him watch what he did to his body, and if, by the time he was done, he would still be conscious, Erik would generously reward him with death.

Stripping the man naked was easy, as Philip, still drowsy, put up little resistance. Erik tore the dark blue sheets to make strips of material, and used them as ropes to tie his victim's hands and legs to the four ends of the bed. By the time he was done, the Count was fully aware of what was happening, but no one could hear his muffled screams, as the Chagny house was a large building, with dozens of rooms.

Erik used his target's body as a canvas, sweat dribbling from his forehead as he worked with his knife, occasionally grunting in disapproval or irritation, ignorant to the moans and whimpers his prey produced.

Done with his body, Erik moved onto his face, performing the unspeakable. Unfortunately for Erik, halfway through his working progress, the boy passed out, unable to bear the agony.

The smell of blood filled the room, making it unbearable for a normal person to breathe. But not for Erik. Erik loved the smell, it aroused him, energized him. It was one of his many unhealthy addictions.

When Erik was done, he slit the Count's throat, careful not to get any blood on his face or chest.

Admiring his artwork, Erik felt a rush of panic. _"What have you done?" _the voice in his head demanded, _"Now she will __never__ love you!" _Surprised to be thinking in such strange ways, Erik quickly shook his head, trying to get rid of the unwelcomed thoughts. He was a monster. Killing was never a problem. And it will never be.

Turning from his work of art, he headed out, escaping out of the window, returning to his lair, his hunger satisfied for the night.

As the sun rose, back in the Chagny household, Philip was found dead on his blood stained sheets, nearly decapitated. The right side of his face was severely disfigured, His skull broken, revealing a part of the flesh of his brain. A part of his lip was cut off, and his cheek was pale white, drained of blood.

But what scared the spectators much, much more was not the damaged face, or the nudity of the corpse.

It was the message, engraved on his naked chest in childish, hardly readable handwriting.

"You're next"


	5. The Aftershock

Erik was alone in his kingdom, sitting in his throne, feeling better than he has felt in years. Remembering his recent appearance at the Chagny house, he chuckled, clapping his bony hands, congratulating himself as he has done at least a dozen of times since his recent kill.

Christine and Raoul were in a state of shock and fear, and he fed off their emotions. He felt rich, in power. He knew that wherever they were, he was in their every thought. Hunting their dreams, turning them into nightmares. His hands tightened into fists as pleasure spread through his body, the feeling of power and command arousing him.

The strange feeling of regret has left him a long time ago, and all he felt now was triumph. He did a wonderful job; his final result was satisfying! He was sure that the sight of the corpse's face and the menacing words would do the trick.

He did not know when or how he was going to make his next kill, and it didn't matter. He felt, that under such pressure and feeling that afraid, his victims would find _him_, if not do his job for him, by committing suicide in an attempt to end all the suffering and waiting. He smiled at the thought.

He wanted to see Christine right now. Watch her as she shuddered in fear, feeling his power over her. Watch her tiny, thin body as it shrunk, trying to disappear, to avoid the fear and darkness that was controlling her every step, driving her mad. He wanted her. Now. Feeling such control and dominance increased his libido, lust.

He had no plans, and he needed none.

Christine, Raoul, Philip and everyone else, they were dolls in his massive dollhouse. He was their master. Their fate was in his hands.

His life was back to normal. The murders, the fear, it all felt familiar.

Feeling inspired, Erik walked over to his piano, on his way stroking the cheek of his life-size replica of Christine, his beautiful mannequin, perfected over years of isolation. He gracefully lifted the back of his cape and sat on his leather black chair, in front of his instrument. He slid his hands over the cold keys, getting used to the feel of the cool stone against his scrawny fingers. Feeling pleased with himself, Erik laughed, his cold, threatening laugh vibrating around the room, sending rats scurrying away in fear.

Finally satisfied, his fingers pressed the keys, and his music filled the room, hypnotizing, mysterious and darkly beautiful.

"You're next" she repeated.

"You're next" were the words engraved into the Count's body…

"You're next" she whispered, unable to pronounce any other words.

Those were the only words she has been able to think about, for over a week now. Oh, what a tough week it was! Since Philip de Chagny's corpse was found, tied to his bed, nearly decapitated and horribly disfigured, all Christine Daaé could think about was the message the killer left.

Who was the message for? For Raoul? Or her?

How did Erik manage to survive? The questions were clouding her mind. She saw where Raoul's bullet hit his body. She saw how deep it went in, how much blood there was. She saw his anguished, pained face as Erik fell to his knees, and then spread out on the floor. He watched them leave, with the yellow light slowly fading in his eyes.

So how was it, then, that he was still alive? What was done to Philip was his work. It was obvious. There was no one else, no one in the entire world, who could have done that.

Could it be, that he was truly a ghost? An undying ghost, who was going to haunt her, for the rest of her days?

Christine shivered.

She felt watched. Seconds stretched into hours, and hours stretched into days, and every damn second, she felt like somewhere out there, a pair of glowing yellow eyes were watching her, observing her every move, spying on her from the shadows.

Her body has been tense for days now. She sat in the corner of the room, as far away from windows and doors as possible, behind her young fiancé, who sat on the couch, his head in his hands, ready to protect her if he needed to.

Christine wrapped her arms around her knees. No, she was not cold, but she was shivering intensely. Raoul's coat was around her shoulders, where it has been, for days now.

The corner has been her home. She rarely ate, but when she did, the Vicomte's servants brought it to her on silver plates. All she did was rock back and forth, trying to get the terrifying image out of her mind, repeating the words she could never forget, and shooting panicked glances at Raoul.

Raoul was sure that his dear soon-to-be wife's glances meant that she was concerned for him, and was checking to see that he was still with her, alive. He was certain, her love for him was as strong as his love for her, and he was ready to protect her, no matter what happened.

Even in such circumstances, Raoul, instead of mourning his brother, thought day and night of Christine's safety. He sincerely worried for her sanity, forgetting about his own.

The foolish boy mistook Christine's egocentricity for care, and he could not have been more wrong.

In her head, Christine was thinking of all the possible ways Erik could attack, and the possible methods she could apply to use Raoul's body as her cover from him.

Christine was paranoid. All around her, things reminded her of Erik, in the worst ways possible. She even got to a point when she mistook a dead fly in one of the corners of the room as Erik's way of telling her that his words "You're next" applied specifically to her. Oh, how scared she was!

A weak breeze shook the curtains. Christine yelped, backing away even further into her corner, covering her face with her hands, her dark curls covering her knees as she lowered her head and sobbed.

Raoul jumped up, running to Christine.

"Shh, it's just the wind!" He said, his voice rusty from not speaking for suc a long time, but soft with tender love for his adored Christine. "Just the harmless wind, it won't hurt you," he murmured, pressing her body against his, "no one will" he said, hugging her tighter.

Christine continued sobbing, her body rigid and stiff, not daring to move. The terror she felt fogged her mind, making it impossible for her to feel anything else. She never thought it was possible to be in such state of panic, for such a long time. The angst made her feel sick, and she was considering grabbing Raoul's gun that was poking out of its holster and shooting herself. The thought of eternal peace comforted her, but she shook suicidal thoughts out of her head.

Desperate, anguished and willing to do anything to save herself, Christine made a hard choice.

She needed to see Erik.


	6. Good Girl Gone Bad

Christine's curls bounced up and down as she descended, down into the underground tunnels beneath the Opera House. With each step, she grew more and more afraid, the sounds of her footsteps making her flinch every time.

She was scared, but she knew that this rendezvous could only go two ways. Either he kills her, or he accepts her bargain and she can live worriless at last.

"_What if he doesn't?" _A tiny voice spoke in her head. She shook the thought away. He had to. How could he not? She would give him anything he wanted, in return for a careless life. She was desperate.

The lights around her grew dimmer and dimmer, and soon, she could barely see. But soon, the stairs ended, and she was facing the lake, the water dark and motionless.

_"The boat!"_ She thought, _"There is no boat! It's on the other side!" _

Christine knelt, and felt the water. Freezing cold. Gathering all her courage and taking a final deep breath, Christine threw herself into the water. The coldness of it shocked her, but without any hesitation, she swam. She was weak from days of starvation and no sleep, but she hardly let that get in her way. Her dream of peace was bigger than that.

Soon, she was at the other side. She scrambled out of water, clinging on to wet rocks.

Erik heard her coming a long time ago. He knew she would have come. He stood, watching her, as she pitifully crawled out of the lake, out of breath and exhausted. Her dark hair was wet, covering her neck and breasts, and a part of her face.

Christine got up, and lifting her dress so she could walk, staggered forward. As soon as she lifted her head, Christine saw Erik, standing in front of her, grinning.

She has never seen him look so dangerously happy. He always looked pitiful, begging for her love. His eyes looked threatening, dark. His lips were curled into a smile, revealing his rotten teeth. His mask was off, and it was the first time he ever voluntarily let her see his face. He obviously wanted to scare her.

Unable to speak, she only panted, fighting for breath.

"I thought it would take you longer!" Erik said, in delight.

"I… I…" Christine stammered, searching for words.

"Shh," Erik silenced her, and he was no longer laughing. His eyes were serious, and he as no longer smiling. "I know why you are here. What do you have for me?"

Christine hobbled over to Erik, fixing her hair as she did. Putting on the most seductive face she could in the given circumstances, she took his hand into hers and put it on her breast. "This," she murmured, trying to sound alluring, doing her best to hide her fear and disgust.

She pressed her lips against his, closing her eyes. He didn't kiss back, which alarmed her. Was her plan not working? She parted his lips with hers, kissing with more passion. Still no response…

She closed the space between them, moving closer and closer to him until their noses almost touched, and kissed him again.

Erik smiled. Oh, how funny things were. Only some days ago, he was pleading her for love. And now Christine was in front of him, trying to please him sexually, a desperate attempt to save herself from death.

Feeling how badly she was failing, Christine moved her hand to his groin, moaning as she did.

"Enough," Erik ordered. As much as he wanted her, he was not going to let her use her sex appeal to change his mind. That would be too simple, and Erik was not a big fan of simple.

Christine stepped away, tears trickling from her eyes. Her knees shook, and her lips trembled.

"Christine, Christine, Christine…" Erik said in an instructional tone, "What would your father say, if he saw you right now?"

Christine winced as Erik's words hit her. Her father… Of course, Erik knew exactly what to say to hurt her so bad. She felt shame and disgust… how could she…

"Unfortunately for you, I will need more than _sex_," Erik said matter-of-factly savoring each word. "I have overestimated you," he noted disappointedly, "I thought you might have more for me than that. He said, turning away. "You can leave," Erik added, smiling to himself as he did.

"Stop! I do!" Christine screamed. Amused by her dread and fear, Erik laughed.

"Alright, what is it?"

"A key." she whispered back.

"Ah! A key! Oh, how I love keys," Erik mused, leering, "But what is the use of a key, if I do not know what it opens…" he looked into her eyes, and mysteriously added "or closes?"

Christine, remorseful of what she was about to do, muttered, "It is a key to Raoul de Chagny's room and windows, he locks them every night".

Erik was delighted. Oh, all the different things fear can do! He has turned an innocent, little child into a backstabbing, unfaithful bitch. Grinning, he answered, "Wonderful," he snickered, "you are willing to betray your beloved husband to ensure yourself an undisturbed life,"

Erik carefully watched her face as the words sunk in, overjoyed at her humiliation.

"I live each day in fear. I would rather not live at all." Christine whispered. It was a failed attempt to get a heartless monster to understand her feelings.

"Now, now, that would be a waste," Erik sarcastically mumbled back, stroking her hair. "Go now," he commanded, motioning towards the lake.

"Is… How… Am I free?" she stuttered, her smile growing wider and wider.

Erik smiled, but said nothing. Taking his response as a yes, she skipped to the boat, ready to jump in.

"Leave the boat!" Erik commanded.

Diving into the water, Christine made her way back home. She felt relieved and glad that the horror was over for her. But at the same time, she felt a heavy boulder on her chest; she knew she betrayed Raoul's trust, and that he was possibly going to die because of her tonight. That kept her from being happy, but knowing how much worse she could feel, she thanked God for Erik's mercy and went to sleep.


	7. The Friendly Monster

Erik hummed as he walked, turning heads of the people he passed with his bewitching tune. He was hurrying towards the house of the Chagnys, once again. Clutching the key Christine has given him, he felt great.

For once, he had a plan, and it did not involve killing.

In his other hand, he was clutching a note, a note that he had scribbled just moments before, with his childish handwriting in red ink.

As he approached his destination, he noticed that all the lights in the house were on, but the house was uncommonly quiet. Smirking, Erik turned right on the familiar corner.

He climbed the south-facing wall of the house, his hands and feet moving swiftly and quietly. Curious to see what had happened to the room of his late old friend, he peered into the window.

Erik was surprised at how similar it looked to his memory; nothing has changed except for the naked bed with no sheets or pillows on it. All that was on the bed was the mattress with a huge circular bloodstain on it. Erik smiled in pride, remembering the night.

Realizing that Raoul's bedroom should not be too far away from his brother's, Erik scrambled to reach the next window, grabbing onto the jagged rocks and the sticky stems of the plant covering the whole house. The next window, as Erik found out, was a window to the family library.

Erik felt the urge to intrude and read the numerous books on the shelves, as he was very fond of reading. But, knowing that he had a task to fulfill, he moved onto the next window.

"_Splendid," _Erik thought, seeing Raoul's sleeping body in a room similar to Philip's. The only difference was that instead of blue velveteen sheets, Raoul's were red. Erik instantly thought that blood would look less effective on these, and felt glad that blood shedding was not in his plans today.

"_Let's see just how honest Mrs. Daa__é__ was," _Erik thought to himself, taking out his key. He smiled as he easily inserted and twisted the key in its hole, instantly opening the window.

Erik entered the room. He reached into his pocket for the note, and placed it on his beside table, placing the key on top of it. About to turn around, he hesitated.

Raoul was sleeping, but he was obviously having nightmares. His eyebrows were raised in fear, and his lips were twisted in a frown. "_I bet he is dreaming of me…" _Erik thought, beaming with joy. His urge to kill was growing stronger and stronger. Erik reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, taking out his knife… A few cuts won't harm, will they?

Stopping himself before he could do anything else, Erik hurriedly hid his knife and exited through the window.

Christine was running towards the house of her fiancé. "_Dead fiancé," _she thought to herself, tears streaming down her face, her eyes puffy from crying all night.

A messenger arrived early that morning, telling her that she should immediately pay a visit to the Chagnys. The news was barely new to her. She knew that Erik, given the opportunity, would kill Raoul immediately. She already missed him… Oh, how scared she was of seeing his dead body. She wondered what Erik did this time, how he used his knife to… she felt sick as the memories of Philip's body popped up in her mind, and all of the grief and fear came rushing back to her.

She felt awful. She felt ashamed. But she did what she had to do.

She entered the house through the front door, and raced up the stairs into Raoul's bedroom. She rushed in, and instantly stopped, her feet paralyzed, her mouth wide open, her eyes unable to close.

Right there, in front of her, Raoul was standing. Undamaged.

In his hand, he had a note and a key.

_The key she gave to Erik… _

"How… Why…" she faltered, unable to ask the question that was bothering her. Why was he alive?

"So I guess it was true," Raoul said disappointedly. His face looked so sad! She didn't remember the last time she has seen him so unhappy. Not even when he thought everything was over, in Erik's lair, tied up and barely breathing.

"I…" Christine said, about to lie, but then closed her mouth. "Yes," she confessed. She wasn't going to lie. He deserved the truth, after all she has done. "I am sorry. I am so, so sorry." She muttered, not daring to look into his eyes.

"I bet you are wondering why I am not dead," Raoul said. He didn't sound mad. Or angry. Or even irritated. He sounded… hopeless. Like he has given up. "Well, Erik turned out to be more generous than you," he said, without a hint of sarcasm as he smiled sadly. Dropping the piece of paper he was holding, he slumped onto his bed, and sat, emotionless, staring at his feet.

Christine picked up the note, and instantly recognized who wrote it. The red ink. The childish handwriting. Erik.

Her heart accelerated, her mind was rushing. She was confused. Why did Erik not kill Raoul? The question bothered her so, so much! Her hands were trembling and her eyes hurt from all the crying. She cried so much… for nothing.

Fear rising inside of her, she read the note.

"_My dear Raoul de Chagny, _

_ Christine was generous enough to provide me with this key to you bedroom, in return for peace._

_ However, I like to play fair. _

_ Therefore, I would like to return this key to you. _

_ Truly yours,_

_ OG"_

What did this mean?

Once again, Christine found herself thinking solely of herself. Did this note mean that Erik was going to kill her? That their contract was annulled?

Her knees suddenly felt weak, and she dropped the note. Her eyes widened with realization as she recalled their conversation from last night…

She asked if she was free… he said nothing. She took his silence for a yes.

She took his silence for a yes.

He never said she was free…


	8. Alone

A cool breeze dried his tears. He knew it was unmanly to cry, but sometimes, he couldn't help himself. He felt alone. Abandoned. First his brother's death… now his loved one's betrayal. He never felt so forgotten, abandoned…

Raoul de Chagny sat in the pouring rain, on a wooden bench, far from his house. After Christine confessed of her betrayal he wanted to hear nothing. He wanted to be alone. So he walked. Away from his house. Away from his brother's death. Away from his love's betrayal.

And now here he was, sitting on a red bench, with a pistol in his hand.

With no wristwatch he had no idea of the time. Time was irrelevant. Unnecessary.

All he did was remember.

Remember his conversation with Christine. Her last words to him. His last words to her. The hurt that he felt. The tiny anger rising inside of him, and falling back down, blocked by the walls of pain and betrayal. How could she? Why? Questions were forming in his mind that he didn't know the answer to, and couldn't dare to ask, not wanting to know the answer.

But from such painful memories rose other ones, more bright and beautiful. Amongst them was his favorite memory of all, the night when Christine told him she loved him too, that night when they kissed, that night on the rooftop of the Paris Opera House… It seemed like nothing mattered, all he cared about was them, her…

He felt himself tearing up again. He squeezed his gun tighter in his hand.

He remembered everything about that night. Her smell. Her bright eyes, so cheerful and innocent he could stare into them forever. He missed her. He missed _his _Christine. Little Lotte… The scarf…

A grasshopper brought him back to reality. It jumped from leaf to leaf, singing its song as it did. Raoul smiled sadly. Why couldn't his life be so simple? The grasshopper jumped again, onto a higher leaf.

"_Turn the grasshopper, and the Opera House is blown into tiny pieces, taking us with it!" _Erik's words echoed in his head. Even now, he could not leave him alone.

Oh, how he loathed him. He caused all troubles.

In moments like this, Raoul wished that the grasshopper had worked. The Opera House would have blown up. They would have died. As simple as that.

Erik… if it wasn't for him, Christine would still be a choirgirl. Without Erik, he would have possibly not even noticed her.

But without Erik, he wouldn't be where he is now. Alone, outside in the freezing cold, miles away from his house, with a gun in his hand, ready to shoot. Without Erik, his brother would have been alive.

Philip… Raoul inhaled sharply, fighting down hot tears. Philip… he killed him in his sleep. What kind of a man would do such a thing? But recently, Raoul developed doubts about Erik's… humanity.

He remembered shooting him so well. The glaring yellow eyes staring at him from the floor as he left. His disfigured face, twisted in agony and pain. His scorched silhouette, like a crumpled piece of paper, lying on the floor. Yet, somehow, this… _creature_ managed to heal, all by itself, underground, without any medicine.

Raoul loved Christine. He knew that for sure. That was one of the only things he was sure of… But he also knew he couldn't forgive her. Not yet. If she truly loved him too, why would she betray him like that?

There was a tiny hope inside of him that this was all a misunderstanding and that Erik stole the key while he was murdering his brother, and Christine, being the kindhearted girl she is, took the blame. But of course, that fantasy was absurd. He felt new hopes pop up as his brain desperately tried to search for a solution. _Maybe this is all a dream… What if Erik made her take the blame, in exchange for Raoul's life? _

Raoul looked up. At the sky. At the invisible god that he so dearly believed in until the recent incidents. His faith wasn't broken, but he started having doubts. His mother always told him, "_God has plans for everyone. One day, you will understand what God had planned for you!"_

Is this what God had planned for him? A death in an abandoned park, in a deserted place, with a bullet in his brain?

Raoul sighed sadly, looking back down at the grass, searching for the grasshopper. A silent breeze made trees shiver, and a single leaf from the tree above him fell onto his shoulder.

Grasping his gun, he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. They will start searching for him soon. Knowing that it was a now-or-never situation, he put the gun to his head.

Closing his eyes, he knew he had to make his final choice.


	9. Thoughts

Erik smiled as he remembered his visit to the Chagny house last night. He felt proud. He did not kill. He did not even wound. But nevertheless, he made an excellent impact. The effect of his words was undeniable.

He would have given anything to see the look on Raoul's face, the hurt in his eyes. The same hurt he felt when he saw them kissing on the rooftop.

He wanted to see Christine, as she hopelessly tried to explain her actions, failing badly.

He wanted to watch as their relationship burned down, all bridges built of trust crashing, never to be restored.

He wondered where the Viscount was right now. Maybe at the edge of a cliff. Maybe even in one of his many rooms, in front of a chair and a rope hanging from the ceiling. Possibly, he was heading to Phantom's lair right now.

Erik winced at that thought. The Chagny brat was certainly not welcome in his home. After he wounded him almost fatally, Erik felt uneasy about the boy coming down into his tunnels.

"It's not fear," Erik assured himself, "I am not scared of the fool. I just don't want him down here, in my private territory!" he exclaimed, smoothing his wig with his hand. That always calmed him down.

Coming from above, were the traditional Opera House sounds he was so used to hearing. After Carlotta's resignation the directors hired a new singer. The audience loved her, but to Erik's experienced ears, she was nothing special. But that didn't stop him from resting his head on the wall and silently listening to the music, forgetting all else.

Christine sat in her room, crying. She had been crying for the whole day. Since Raoul walked out of the room after her guilty plea, all she could do was cry. She cried because she felt ashamed. Remembering flirting with Erik gave her goose bumps. She felt unclean, disgusting.

She was disloyal to the one man who truly loved her. The only one who showed no fear, the only one who accompanied her wherever she went. He protected her. Guarded her. He was the one.

There was no other "one" for her. And she threw his love away.

She pressed her hands against her cheeks harder, trying to stop the tears from flowing, trying to hide from the world. Her eyes burned with every tear.

Where was he? She was informed that he was not seen after their conversation. She feared so much of what he could do. Raoul was sometimes too emotional, and she knew that, which scared her even more.

When she first heard of his disappearance the shock was unbearable. She asked strangers on streets, giving them detailed descriptions. Every "no" broke her heart. She felt responsible.

Right now, she hated Erik more than ever. Hated him for bringing out the side of her she never knew existed. The side that would do anything to survive. The selfish side that would kill to live. Before, she never knew it existed. Before she faced real danger.

The candle flickered, throwing her into darkness for a moment. Her eyes welcomed the dark, as light only irritated them. If she could, she would blow out all the candles, and rest her eyes. Perhaps even sleep, as she hasn't slept for days.

But she couldn't. Darkness reminded her of Erik. Even seeing two candles close together reminded her of his yellow shining eyes.

She knew that he only pushed her, only helped her get to where she was now. It was all her fault; he just guided her in the right way. He was not the one who brought him the key to her lover's bedroom.

She frowned as she remembered Raoul's disappointed look. His deep, sad eyes. The lack of anger she hated. She wanted him to be mad. To somehow get back at her, to make her feel less… cruel.

She winced at the memories. She never thought mental pain could hurt her physically. Her heart ached. Her head muscles pounded. She felt dizzy. She was starving but she couldn't bring herself to eat. She didn't want to see anyone. Except for Raoul…

Raoul clasped the pistol harder. He had to do it now, the more he thought of it the less time he had. His courage was running out.

Suddenly, realization hit him. Whether it was truly an out-of-blue idea, or his desperate brain had finally found a way to stop him from committing suicide, the understanding struck him.

This was exactly what Erik was hoping for. Instead of doing the dirty work, Erik wanted to see how far he could push them. Very far, as Raoul had discovered…

Raoul slowly lowered his gun, his thoughts racing.

His love for Christine burned in his mind, making it hard for him to concentrate on anything else. He wanted to go back to her, right now. He couldn't think of forgiveness yet, but he wanted to see her, alive and breathing.

Raoul smiled at the thought of her, but the grasshopper, coming back from the thick green grass, jumped on his shoe, reminding him of Erik.

There had to be something he could do to get back at him.

Revenge… Even after the death of his brother, Raoul did not think of revenge. All he thought of was Christine's safety. Now, once the thought was in his head, it wouldn't leave. How sweet it sounded… He wanted vengeance. Erik took too much from him.

Raoul stood up hurriedly, scaring the little grasshopper. He marched in the direction of his house, remembering his route here. The gun was still in his hand, but he no longer needed it. With revenge in his mind, things no longer seemed so gloomy.

Raoul had a plan.

He was going to hunt down the Phantom of the Opera.

This time, not alone.

He was going to involve the police, town security, and anyone else who would be willing to do it. Erik was going down. And this time, he was going to make sure of it.


	10. The Chagny Brat Takes Control

"Let me just clarify, you would like to report one man, for multiple murders and abuses, simultaneously?" the woman on the other end demanded, her voice skeptical.

"Yes, I know it sounds ridiculous, but it is all true! He has been living under the Opera House, for a long time now!" Raoul exclaimed, irritated by the woman's unprofessionalism.

"Under the Opera House?" the woman asked, chucking slightly.

"Yes! And there are plenty of people who can confirm this!" Raoul almost shouted, his veins on his forehead becoming visible. How could she laugh at this?

"I am sorry sir, but are you sure? We get plenty of jokers around here, and I would hate to waste my time on one." the woman said, more serious.

"Jokers?" Raoul inquired, bewildered, "For your information, I am Raoul – Vicomte de Chagny!"

"Oh, I am terribly sorry, monsieur," the woman sounded worried, "I did not know! I-" she broke off, choking on her own words. She knew how powerful the Chagny family was, and she knew what he could do to her. She instantly regretted her actions and words, feeling ashamed and scared.

Raoul felt respected, and proceeded, "His name is Erik," he said simply.

"Erik…" the woman repeated, as she wrote down the name, "Erik who?"

"Erik." Raoul repeated, puzzled. What was she asking?

"Oh, I am sorry sir, I will need a surname to file a formal document for this," she said, her tone apologetic.

Raoul fell into confusion. He never really knew Erik's last name. He was either known as the Opera Ghost, or, simply, Erik. "He is also known as the Opera Ghost, if that might help," Raoul said uncertainly, knowing how stupid it sounded.

There was a long pause as the woman on the other end took her time to decide whether or not to take this man seriously. Not willing to risk her job, she sighed and said, "Alright, Erik, the Opera Ghost, anything else?"


	11. Alone Together

Another hour passed. Christine sat, listening to the sound of her watch ticking. It calmed her down.

When she was little, she fell asleep to the sound of her father's pocket watch, as it was unusually loud. She got used to the sound, and when her father died, she looked hard for the watch but she never figured out where it was. So instead of listening to her father's pocket watch, Christine always fell asleep with her own hand under her ear, her own watch ticking away the seconds of the night.

Without the watch, it's comforting ticking, the cool feel of the glass against her cheek, she could never fall asleep. Without it, her problems rushed onto her, surrounding her, making it impossible for her to clear her mind and sleep. But concentrating on the soft sound made everything else seem unimportant.

So now, Christine Daaé sat in her room, her tears still wet on her cheeks, and the soft ticking of her watch was the only sound one could hear.

She regretted so much. She regretted trying to seduce Erik. She knew Erik was a monster, but judging from her actions, and his responses, he acted like a gentleman. He rejected her "offer", and when he was given the key to his enemy's private chamber, he returned it. _He played fair…_ Like a true gentleman… as strange as those words sounded relating to him. But deep in her heart, she knew they were true.

She felt horrible for betraying Raoul. She knew she loved him. And now, she loved him more than her own life. Being apart from him, knowing the danger he was in, she realized how much her heart wanted him, this time not for protection. Not to shield her from the raging Erik who was haunting her thoughts.

All they went through together made her love him even more, and seeing the things he did for her proved that he felt the same.

_"Well I wouldn't be so sure about that now," _Christine thought, tears welling up in her eyes. Her concentration broken and the ticking not calming her anymore, Christine buried her face in her hands and wept.

She wondered when she would run out of tears, but something told her it wouldn't be soon.

"Goodbye," Raoul said, ending his long conversation with the police department.

He felt powerful. He felt like he was finally taking things into his own hands. He knew he made mistakes, and one of them was not doing what he did earlier. And now that it was done, Raoul de Chagny felt… _manly._

He walked rhythmically back to his house, his chin up, his gun back in it's holster, all thoughts of suicide dead and gone.

With his new confidence, came rushing back his love for Christine. He needed to see her. He was ready to forgive her. He missed her, and his victory didn't feel as sweet without her. He needed her next to him.

He knew of all she did to him, but the memory was slowly fading away. Raoul rarely remembered bad things, and this memory was definitely not one of the good ones.

Whatever Christine did, she was desperate. And he was almost sure she regretted it now. The look he saw in her eyes on the roof of the Opera House was unmistakable. It was love. And Raoul, from his past experience in life, knew that love couldn't be forgotten or cheated. And he loved Christine.

Raoul, encouraged by love and the happiness from his recent success, jogged back to his house. He felt like things were back to normal now. Even better than normal, they were great! He felt like his almost-suicide was just a dream, a nightmare he awoke from.

However, the nightmare for him was not over.


	12. The Sweet Hello

"Christine!" Raoul yelled, banging on her door. As soon as he got home he was informed that Christine rushed away in tears, crying her eyes out. From the concerned tone of his workers he understood that the situation was serious.

When he first arrived, his servants looked as if they had just seen a ghost. Rachel, one of the helpers of the chef, gasped, her eyes wide open. But Raoul had little time for them, all he needed to know were the whereabouts of his love. And from what he heard, she was in as much danger as he was, when he had a gun in his hand.

When Meg, who was there to look after Christine, opened the door, she too was very surprised. Raoul was confused, how did they all find out about his failed suicide? But then again, everyone knew how deep his love for Christine was, and Rachel discovering that his gun was missing from under his bedside table could only mean one thing.

Christine's body was rigid, and her eyes wide open. Was she hearing a ghost? Or was she hallucinating?

"Christine!" Raoul's voice sounded so urgent, and yet full of joy. How could this be possible? "Christine I have news!" Raoul screamed.

Christine was unable to move. She didn't know how long she sat in her little dark corner, crying. Perhaps too long. Perhaps she fell asleep, and was dreaming of him now. Or perhaps her mind was playing games with her…

"Open the damn door!" Raoul whispered insistently to Meg. He was losing his temper. She was probably asleep; exhausted from all the crying… he needed to get in!

"I cant, the door is locked from the inside!" Meg whispered back, worried.

"When did she last talk to you?" Raoul asked, his words sounding more and more anxious.

Meg didn't answer for some time, and when she did, it sounded like she was crying. "I haven't heard a word from her since she looked the door. Only weeping. Sobbing. Sometimes she cried your name. Or blamed herself for not giving her life away to save you. Sometimes she prayed quietly, saying her father's name. But she never talked to me…" Meg's eyes were teary, and by the time she finished she could no longer talk properly. "Open the door Christine!" she choked out, in between her sobs, "Please!"

Her body tense, Christine listened. This didn't sound like a dream. She pinched her arm to confirm. This wasn't a dream. She silently stood up, and dragged herself towards the door. Slowly turning the heavy key, she exhaled, trying to get more oxygen into her brain, the room was small, and she was running out of air.

She turned the key, and afraid of what would, or maybe wouldn't be behind the door, hesitated. But Raoul did the job for her, yanking the door open.

"Christine!" he shouted, his voice filled with happiness and childlike delight. He hugged her, breathing in the smell of her soft hair, stroking it, squeezing her tiny body close, not willing to let go.

The concerns she had were now gone. He was alive, and unharmed. He was hers. She knew she loved him, she could feel it in his embrace. And she loved him too, as much as she possibly could. She regretted everything bad she ever did to him, but she felt peaceful. She has never felt that peaceful in a while. She knew she didn't deserve his forgiveness, but at least she knew he was okay. She also knew she owed a lot to Erik, and even though she didn't know how, she would have to pay back some time.

Christine, breathless from the miracle and Raoul's tight hug, just stood. A smile spread across her face as the news sunk in, and she hugged him back, burying her face in his clothes.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" She whispered, sinking her face lower into his shoulder. Sobs started rocking her body, but they were not sad sobs. They were sobs of relief. She knew he was alive.

"I thought… I never…" she gasped, unable to complete the sentences, not wanting to ruin the perfection of the moment.

"I know," Raoul cut her off. "I was about to end it, but I didn't. I did something better, something I should have done a long time ago," Raoul murmured into her ear, hugging her tighter. He was finally with her. She was finally with him. His worries seemed to disappear, and nothing else mattered. He felt like nothing could ever come between them again. He glanced up at the ceiling, looking past it, into heavens.

"_I knew you wouldn't leave me," _Raoul thought, smiling.


	13. The Wrong Decision

Erik breathed in the damp air of his surroundings. He has been down under the Paris Opera House for a while now, and he was bored. He hasn't heard any news from Raoul or Christine, and out of pride, he was not willing to come out and find them to see for himself.

Music didn't come to him that easily anymore. Now that Christine was no longer perfect in his eyes, and his love for her wasn't as deep and inspiring, music was harder to write, and whatever he wrote sounded wrong and unfinished to him.

Erik's wounds have completely healed by now, and he moved freely.

He spent his days creating new traps for the silly explorers, but lately, as if on purpose, he hasn't been getting many visitors.

There was one little homeless orphan who was wandering around the city and decided to sneak in, in between the cage-like little windows that were at foot level from the outside, the street. The little boy snuck in, and discovered the river. Curious to see what was on the other side, he jumped into the boat. The little boy was so eager to find out what or who was living there…

Erik drowned him.

Halfway through his water journey, Erik began singing to him, entrancing him, making him stop the boat and listen. And just as he leaned in closer to the water, trying to find the source of the mysterious singing, Erik grabbed him by the neck, dragging him underwater.

However, as much pleasure as those little kills use to bring, Erik was only slightly entertained by this one. Erik needed more action.

Erik also felt some strange connection to Raoul. Like a little girl who loves her dolls… Erik wanted to know what happened to him, whether he died or not, what he was doing right this second… Erik felt his influence over him, and he wanted to check up on his little marionette.

As to Christine… Erik no longer knew what he felt. Yes, there was lust. And the strong desire to hear her voice, sing with her, keep her with him… but discovering the darker corners of her character only lead to strange disgust towards her.

Erik felt so drawn to Christine because of her innocence. Her childlike wonder, the purity of her mind. But that image was shattered that night…

Oh, that night! Erik remembered everything about that night. He replayed it in his head, thinking of the alternative ways he could have gone, things he could have done…

If he was completely honest with himself, Erik hoped that Raoul didn't kill himself. He needed him alive. If Raoul died, the game would be over. Or if not, it would not be as interesting… Erik enjoyed his little game. After a lifetime of loneliness it felt good to finally interact, whatever the subject of the… _interactions _was.

Erik smiled, thinking about the night with Christine again… With nothing else to do, Erik lounged in his coffin, bringing back the memories…

"And tomorrow, they are going to call me back, asking for his exact address. They are going to start the search tomorrow Christine! It might all be over so soon!" Raoul finished his story, breathing heavy. He looked at Christine, confused.

Christine looked… lost. Almost… sad?

"Those are good news, Christine!" Raoul exclaimed, not understanding why his love looked so gloomy. Was she still worried about the earlier situation? Raoul reached out, trying to stroke her hand, but she pulled away, knotting her eyebrows.

"You are going to… _hunt _Erik down?" She demanded, her voice unsure.

"Well, yes!" Raoul said doubtfully. It didn't sound so bad to him, so why was there this strange… disgust in her voice? "What is wrong, ma cherie?" Raoul asked, not daring to try to touch her hand again.

Christine didn't know. Wasn't this what she wanted all along? All of those days sitting alone in her room, memories of Erik haunting her. But now, she didn't seem so sure. Was that really what she wanted?

She felt strange feelings towards Erik. They couldn't be described as love, but they were not hate, either. She was simply confused. What she felt for Raoul was love, she was sure of that. But when she thought of Erik, it felt like something more strong, yet so far from both love and hate!

She shook her head, trying to concentrate. Her tangled emotions were confusing her. Why was this so hard? Did she not hate Erik? And if not, then why? She frowned, looking up at Raoul. He was still waiting for an answer.

"Don't you see…" Christine answered, struggling for words. "Erik's last move was almost… respectable. And what do we answer with? We can't just turn to the police right now. That wouldn't be _honorable_," Christine said, pursing her lips as she said the last word. She instantly regretted saying it. She winced, knowing that she could not possibly take back her words.

"Honorable?" Raoul asked, anger growing in his voice, "And you are the one to talk about honorable?" he demanded, his eyebrows raised.

Christine opened her mouth, unable to speak. _And you are the one to talk about honorable? _She repeated his words in her head. He truly hurt her feelings. Raoul didn't look like himself. He looked angry and... mean. Christine has never seen Raoul like this. He looked much older, no longer the young nice gentleman she used to know.

She stood up, turning to him. Unable to speak, she pursed her lips, and lowering her head and turned away, ready to walk off.

"Christine!" Raoul cried, catching her hand. She tried to free it, but his hold was strong, not letting go.

"I already lost my brother," he whispered. "Don't you see this is a game he is playing? We are his puppets, you and I. Even though he is not physically here, he is manipulating us. Christine, he is a bad man."

Christine looked into his eyes. His eyes were a dark shade of brown. From far away, they looked very dark, but standing next to him, his eyes looked kind and warm.

"Christine, we have to fight him. If we don't destroy him, he will destroy us." Raoul said, with a serious look on his face.

"_Destroy…" _Christine thought to herself. It was such a harsh word. _Destroy _Erik. She would never admit it but she knew she didn't want to do that… Erik was her teacher. He was her Angel of Music. Yes, he was also the Phantom, the monster, the evil puppeteer but he was her tutor. He was the one who taught her how to sing! And she felt like she could never repay him for that.

Raoul looked into her eyes, trying to search for an answer.

"Okay," Christine said, her tone gravely.

Somewhere in the night, a grasshopper jumped.


	14. The Monster Within

"Yes, under the Opera House. No, as in _under_ it. _Under!" _Raoul repeated, grimacing. Was it really that hard to believe?

Next to him, in a beige coat, was Christine. She was still not sure. Why had she said yes? Surely there should have been another option. But she could not possibly change her mind now. She has hurt him too much.

The way Raoul talked of killing Erik scared her. There was a strange fire in his eyes, some bizarre tone in his voice. It reminded her somehow of Erik, and it scared her. Seeing those things in Erik was nothing out of ordinary, but Raoul…

"Yes, I am sure!" Raoul inhaled sharply, irritated. He looked like a completely different person. Christine remembered that story she read about two twins, one of them sweet and kind and the other one evil and mean. Raoul looked like his evil twin has replaced him. She wondered when the old Raoul was going to come back.

"Alright," Raoul muttered, calming down. "Alright," he repeated, smiling. "Superb, good-bye," he said, putting down the phone, and grinning at Christine. "All done!" he murmured, and kissed her on the lips.

Christine felt strange. His lips felt different. The kiss was not like any of the kisses he has given her before. There wasn't any of that care or tenderness she loved so dearly in that kiss. It was just… a kiss.

"They are going to send out their best men today at 6 o'clock," he smiled slyly, "of course, they didn't agree to that at first, it did require some… persuasion. A few thousands was all it took!" he winked.

Who was this person? Christine could not believe it. What was wrong with Raoul?

"Raoul… what are you doing?" she asked, her voice weak. "You don't sound like yourself. You don't act like yourself either…" her lips quivered. For a second, the old Raoul returned. His eyes looked sincerely concerned and his eyebrows knotted in a childlike guilty knot. But the old Raoul left as soon as it came.

"Honey, once we…" he stopped, beaming. Christine was in utter shock. He smiled just like Erik when he talked of death… killing. Christine felt fear. Did Erik… _break_ Raoul?

"A life for a life," he whispered, more serious. "He took my brother. Once I finish with him, everything will be back to normal," he promised.

Even in the sunny morning light, he looked dangerous. She stepped back, astonished by how similar he looked to Erik. His eyes were brown, rather than shining yellow. His lips were much fuller, his nose… well he _had_ a nose. But even with the staggering differences, the similarities were not any less significant.

The half-smile… the flaring nostrils… and the expression in his eyes!

Christine realized that whatever Erik did, it had worked. Raoul was turning into… a monster.


	15. Raoul the Tattletale

"Monsieur?" a deep male voice asked.

Officer Bernat Jacques was clutching the phone to his ear, not knowing what to do. He was very confused by the strange task he received that morning. He was told to find Erik, also known as the Opera Ghost, who lived under the Paris Opera House. He was also told that the complaint came from Raoul de Chagny, the new Comte de Chagny, so he was forced to take it seriously.

"Comte?" he demanded, louder, breathing heavily.

"Yes?" Raoul answered, wincing at his new calling. It had cost him his brother. He was not the Comte. He was Vicomte. Comte was his brother… the one that Erik killed. "Yes?" Raoul said, louder, trying to concentrate on the present.

"I am in front of the stairs," Jacques said, unsure. There was a long winding staircase in front of him, going down. It looked like it was a road to hell, and he was terrified. His men stood silently before him, praying that this was all a misunderstanding. The stairs looked dangerously tall and slippery, not talking about short and close to the walls.

"And…" Raoul mused, annoyed at how cowardly the officer was. "Go down!" he urged, putting the phone down, and rolling his eyes at Christine, who was sitting in front of him.

Christine sat, silent. How rude and arrogant he sounded. He tried catching her gaze but she looked away, scared that somehow he would find out what she was thinking of. How absurd it sounded… But Christine didn't know what to believe anymore.

Erik was getting annoyed at the speed of his little marionettes. Was it really so hard to involve him in their little interactions? He needed to know what was going on, but there was no way he was going to pay them a visit himself. It was a matter of principle.

Suddenly, there was a sound. A sound of footsteps. Erik imagined who it might be.

Perhaps it was Christine, coming once again to him to beg for forgiveness, death or perhaps, a way to repay him…

Or maybe it was Raoul himself, unable to put up with the fear, coming to sacrifice himself once more for the life of his love.

What if Erik had underestimated Raoul? What if Raoul, sensing the danger he was in, decided to betray Christine like she has betrayed him? Erik smiled at the thought. If the Chagny brat walked in with a set of keys for Christine's chamber that would be ironic. Erik would enjoy that…

His fantasies were instantly shattered when the sound of footsteps was accompanied by a louder noise. There were a lot of people coming.

Instantly realizing what was going on, Erik frowned.

The incompetent little rascal brought the police into their game.

Erik was sincerely disappointed.

And when Erik was disappointed, everyone suffered.


	16. Trapped

Christine looked at Raoul, tears in her eyes. It has been hours since he put down the phone, but he was still looking at it, his eyes wide, waiting for something.

Christine stood up, and carefully approached him. She silently put her hand on his shoulder. Raoul instantly turned around and grasped her wrist, surprising both himself and her.

Christine jumped back, terrified.

"What has happened to you?" She cried, rubbing her wrist.

Erik… Erik happened. Even so far away, he was still affecting her. Affecting Raoul. She narrowed her eyes, her bottom lip quivering. But she suppressed her tears. She would not cry in front of him.

"Sorry," he dismissed her, turning back to the phone.

_"That's it?"_ Christine thought, unable to comprehend. What was happening to her Raoul? It felt like Erik replaced Raoul. Like he switched her caring, kindhearted Raoul with a self-centered, icy stranger. Only hours ago Raoul was hugging her, and now all he was thinking of was revenge.

Was this all because of the death of his brother? Christine knew from her own experience how strongly death could affect people. Raoul wanted revenge, and she understood that. But why did he have to change so much?

_"What if even after Erik dies, he will remain like this?"_ A little voice in her head asked. Christine shook her head, her curls bouncing up and down. No, that was not possible.

And yet, as she looked at him, she realized it was.

"Hello?" Officer Bernat Jacques cried, scared but trying not to show it. "Is anybody out there? I am Officer Bernat Jacques, and I am here by the request of Raoul de Chagny, so if you are out there, please surrender now!" his voice broke off, showing his fear.

The Officer has heard many legends about the Opera Ghost, but none of them seemed real to him until now. Was the Chagny boy just fooling with the police? He had a very good reputation, as did his brother, who passed away recently. The family was very secretive about the death, so no one really found out what happened.

Bernat was at the end of the spiraling staircase, standing alone. The other policemen decided it would be reasonable to send him down first, to investigate.

_"Cowards!" _Bernat Jacques thought, but he didn't feel very courageous himself. Standing alone, surrounded by darkness and possibly a ruthless murderer, he was more scared than he has ever been.

Erik stood in the darkness, eyeing the Officer. Oh, what a silly fool. Did he not know of The Opera Ghost? Did he not know of what he was capable of? Erik's hands twitched as he daydreamed about the different ways he could kill the helpless policeman.

But Erik knew that was a poor option. That would only lead to more deaths, and possibly, his own, and he could not risk that. No, he hasn't finished his Don Juan Triumphant yet, and nobody but him could finish it. He winced as he realized that the only thing keeping him alive was the interest as to what will happen to the two lovebirds and his unfinished opera.

Erik's mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do. He could kill the Officer, but that would attract even more police, and Erik didn't want that. All of these years, he managed to manipulate people into keeping his secrets, not involving anyone else. But now…

Erik shook his head, and inhaled deeply, tried to get more oxygen into his head. He needed to think clearly. What could he possibly do?

For the first time in many, many years, Erik felt trapped.


	17. Memories

"_What to do? What to do!"_ Erik's mind screamed. He felt surrounded. This was a strange feeling. His brain was refusing to think clearly, his mind blank, fear scaring all the thoughts away.

He hasn't felt like this in such a long time.

He was the victim.

Erik remembered feeling like the victim, even though it was such a long time ago. Childhood memories rushed to him, haunting and teasing him.

_The weather is humid. The sun is bright. It's summer. _

_ Erik slightly opens his eyes, and through the iron cage bars, sees people. Some of them are laughing, some wincing in disgust. Erik closes his eyes, not willing to see their faces. _

_ "Whoo-ts" he hears the sound of the whip slicing through the disgusting wet air and then slicing into his naked back. He feels pain, but he can't cry out. He knows he will be punished if he does. Tears prickle his eyes, but he doesn't cry. Those people will not see him cry. _

_ "Whoo-ts" he hears the sound again and the pain spreads through his body, making him wince and shudder. He hates his owner, Mr. Mystic. What a stupid nickname. His own mother left him, and this bastard picked him up. _

_ "Whoo-ts"_

_ He brought him to his trailer, and decided on his fate right there and then._

_ "Whoo-ts", another agonizing blow. More pain. More laughter._

_ "Take that shit off, you Demon Child!" He bellows, talking to Erik, referring to the scrap of an old potato sack that he uses to cover his face. Demon Child. That was his name. And all because of his deformity. _

_ Erik first blamed himself. He cried every night, and taking small knives left over from shows he cut his face. Seeing his own, red blood made him feel more human, that was one of the only things him and the other children had in common. But Erik stopped blaming himself. With time, he even stopped blaming only his mother. _

_ "Whoo-ts"_

_ He started blaming everyone._

_ "Off I said!" Mr. Mystic screams, ripping his handmade mask off, revealing his face. The viewers burst into laughter and Erik squints as bright lights blind him. As his eyes adjust to the light, he looks around. Same old site. He hates everyone here. _

_ "Whoo-ts" the whip hits him again, making him fall down. More laughter follows. Those are not people, Erik thinks. They deserve to die. _

_ They will. _

_ "Whoo-ts"_

Erik nearly gasped as the memories overcame him. He longed for human contact right there and then, but he knew how silly and impossible that thought was. No one would touch him. No one would comfort him.

_Christine…_ The name slipped involuntarily into his head, making him shudder. Oh, how he wanted to bury his hideous face in her hair and forget the world. Yes, he loved her. The fear and the memories and the strong longing for human contact made him realize that, and the realization danced around him, saddening him further.

Perhaps he might not ever see her again.

Erik shook his head once more, trying to clear his head; he needed to concentrate on what was in front of him. And that would be the lost and bewildered Officer.

Suddenly, realization hit Erik.

How could he forget!

A long time ago, before Christine came into his life, he knew that one day he would have to deal with the legal forces. So he stole some canvas from the storage room after a restocking and painted on it. Being extremely involved with all kinds of arts, Erik was a great painter.

So he drew exactly what his home would look like if he hadn't inhabited it. He drew a cave, abandoned and forgotten, and he carefully folded his large masterpiece and attached it to his "ceiling", right along the place where the lake ended and his humble home began.

It was enough to cut the string that kept the canvas folded up, and the whole masterpiece would come down, covering his territory like a curtain, making it look like rats and insects were the only living things down there.

Erik smiled a triumphant smile, proud of himself.


	18. Swift Death of Officer Bernat Jacques

Slowly moving in the darkness, Erik made sure he made no sound at all. He approached the lake, and checking to see that the officer was still standing on the other side, proceeded to take out his knife from its holster.

With the knife in his hand, Erik lifted himself on his tiptoes, and carefully slit the strings that held the canvas folded.

The canvas came _crashing_ down, scaring and surprising both Erik, and Officer Bernat. After the loud unraveling, the painting stopped moving, expertly covering Erik's home, not giving anything away.

However, Officer Bernat Jacques had heard everything. He knew he was not alone. He knew the Opera Ghost was there, hiding. He knew that the sound that ripped through the darkness was not caused by the water, or an insect or even a rat.

And Erik knew that Officer knew too much.

Now, killing the Officer did not seem like such a bad idea at all.

Erik jumped into the lake, swimming fast and soundless. The Officer stood, listening, trying to figure out what was causing the sound, not daring to call for support, scared that what he heard was nothing important. He could not have done anything more stupid.

Erik emerged out of the water, approached his victim. He felt in charge, and it felt good. He didn't like feeling vulnerable.

Erik was soaking wet, and he knew he couldn't leave any traces, and water would be a giveaway. Thinking fast, he spotted a scrap of a material – a shredded potato sack – and wincing at the memories, quietly picked it up and approached the Officer.

Officer Bernat Jacques understood, seeing the dark long shadow approach him, that he had seconds left to live.

"Ah," he tried to cry out, but all that escaped his lips was a rasp whisper. The man that was only centimeters away from his face smirked, his yellow eyes dancing in the darkness. He looked wet, but maybe it was his imagination playing tricks on him.

"Please, I have a wife… and kids!" Bernat Jacques whispered, pleading.

Erik looked at him. How pathetic he looked. But then Erik knew that he would give everything he had to be him. He was so… normal. Erik hated him.

Using the material to cover his wet hands, Erik twisted the Officer's neck with a quick movement, and the Officer fell to the floor, senseless and dead.

Erik lifted the corpse, and careful to keep his clothes dry, carried him up.

"Aah!" Erik cried loudly in a deep, rasp voice, mimicking the Officer's tone. Another talent that Erik possessed was that he could copy the tone, pitch and sound of anyone's voice, flawlessly. Erik smiled. He liked using this particular talent of his, that didn't happen very often, as he was usually alone.

After the cry, Erik dropped the body, and watched it as it fell down the stairs. He heard some shuffling upstairs and quickly descended, hiding behind the rocks, not daring to dive and swim back to the other side.

"We're coming, Officer!" some men cried and in a few seconds they were all down, holding their guns close to them, ready to shoot.

"Look," one of them said. "Officer fell down the stairs…" they all scurried away from the corpse, some of them gasping some chuckling.

"It was nothing… the old fool just tripped!" the other shouted, making a few of them laugh.

"Or someone pushed him…" one of them squeaked. Erik could not see them or their faces, but he hoped they wouldn't go as far as swimming to the other side. They were not that smart.

There was some uneasy chatting as they expanded on the theory, but one of them ended it, saying, "Lets check!"

Erik assumed it was the same one that then switched on a torch of some kind, shining it in random directions. After some a few painful minutes of the policemen looking around, they decided there was nothing suspicious or worth investigating here.

Erik could not help but smile at his genius. His plan had worked. He thanked his young self for the painting, and waited patiently as the young fools decided to leave.

"There is absolutely nothing here," One of them said, shining the torch directly at Erik's painting," Erik was surprised at how blunt they were. He was no expert, but even he saw the way the light reflected off the painting a little. Erik reminded himself that fear makes us see, and sometimes ignore obvious details. "We should take the body," another shouted, and they all agreed. With a conjoined effort they lifted the dead Officer Bernat Jacques off the floor, and grunting, carried him up the stairs.

Erik waited for some time before diving back into the water and returning to his home, but he left the curtain on even though it made it impossible for light to seep into his home. He preferred the dark for now.

Alone, Erik had time to think. Raoul was not going to give up. He needed a new plan. And he needed one fast.


	19. The Other Monster

"You WHAT?" Raoul de Chagny scream into the telephone, making Christine jump up. "How?" Raoul exclaimed, his voice loud with disbelief and anger. The police department had just informed him that they found nothing under the Opera House and were now returning, empty-handed.

Christine watched as her lover paced around the room, almost breaking the telephone with his tight grip. She wanted to cry, but she knew that would only anger him. She was still shocked from the state he was in, how wanting revenge affected him. She was afraid to ask him a question, not wanting to make him mad. She didn't know whether or not leaving would anger him, as well, so she just sat there, not daring to look him in the eye.

Suddenly, Raoul's body went rigid as his eyes widened and he clutched the telephone even tighter. "You think this is a prank?" he bellowed, "Some joke?" he yelled even louder, stomping his foot. Christine put her hands over her ears, like a child not wanting to hear her parents argue. "You think that I, the Count of Chagny, have time for jokes? My brother died because of this monster, and you think I am joking?" his eyes looked like they were going to pop out, and Christine realized that this Raoul was so, so very different from her love, in the worst ways possible. She was scared of him, more scared than she had been of Erik, perhaps because she knew, deep down, that Erik meant her no serious harm, that Erik loved her beyond reason, the way Raoul used to…

Raoul angrily slammed the telephone down, making Christine jump once more. His nostrils flared as he ran his hands through his hair nervously. "They think I've lost my mind… They think I've gone crazy!" he whispered more to himself rather than to Christine, looking mad.

"Raoul," Christine murmured lovingly, as tender as she could. He turned his head, looking at her, but his gaze never found her, his eyes looked distant. "Raoul, this is all very tiring, don't you think?" she cooed, taking a step towards him.

"You…" Raoul whispered, his expression unreadable. "You think I'm crazy too, don't you?" he said, now sounding irate. "You saw him!" he accused, his tone getting louder and louder.

"Yes, yes," Christine agreed, not wanting to fight. She gently took another step in his direction. "But don't you think we should rest for some time?" she proposed nervously, playing with her fingers.

"Rest?" Raoul whispered, "Why rest? He doesn't rest! I doubt he even sleeps! He is a monster! He is always planning, always building his devilish plots!" he yelled, clutching his own hair. Christine saw now just how much his brother's death had affected him. She was so wrong thinking that the death of Philippe could be easily gotten over. It's just that seeing him so happy and full of ideas, apologizing to her in her own room, he looked everything but mad. "Don't you see? Don't you see? Don't you see…" he repeated over and over again, his heart beating in his throat. Suddenly his eyes widened with realization as he took a step away from Christine.

"You… you were with him all this time, weren't you?" he muttered, spitting, his hands trembling as he let go of his hair.

"Raoul this is madness! I told you I was sorry! I will never forgive myself for what I've done, but please don't hold it against me! I love you!" Christine cried, worry and fear in her voice. Raoul was mad. He looked mad, and he spoke like a crazy man. Poor boy, he had to go through the death of his brother, the betrayal of his one true love… "Raoul, I love you," she repeated, taking a step closer to him, trying to comfort him.

"Stay away from me!" Raoul cried, pushing her away and stumbling out of the room.

Christine fell to the floor, sobbing. What has happened to her love? Her gentle, kind Raoul? Where was the man who would have given anything to be with her, to save her, even his own life?

She couldn't help but blame herself. Erik only pushed him halfway. The other half was her work. She covered her face with her two hands, and howled, letting her tears drop on the wooden floor, not trying to hold them back.

The more Raoul would go after Erik, the more trouble he would get himself into. Erik was too smart to be outsmarted, didn't Raoul see that? He was only digging his own grave, scarring the name of his family by trying to get back at Erik.

Christine knew that the only way they could get out of this was to somehow reach a compromise with Erik. A faint smile touched her lips. A compromise with Erik… that sounded so… oxymoronic. But still, that felt like the only right thin to do.

But as Christine sat in the room alone, sobbing, she realized that what she feared more than Erik denying a compromise was that he would accept it, but that Raoul wouldn't. He seemed so different, whatever he did was so not Raoul. Christine feared that her love would want more than peace, that he would want absolute revenge.

"_What if he wouldn't stop at that, either?" _the thought frightened Christine, but it was so possible, so realistic. _"I should have just played by Erik's rules…"_ Christine thought, wincing as the memories of the night flooded her. Maybe things would have been so much better if she stayed with Erik…

Through her tears, Christine realized that she hasn't heard music in such a long time now… She wondered if Erik was hearing music now… How wonderful it would be, to live under the stage and hear every beautiful, mind-blowing piece that was happening on it. She smiled through her tears, and felt lost, confused, indecisive.


	20. Back Down

_People laughing. Someone throwing a shoe at him… _

_ Whoo-ts._

_ The sharp pain across his back, more laughing. _

_ "Take that shit off, you Demon Child!"_

_ Whoo-ts._

_ More laughing, cheering. _

_ Whoo-ts._

Erik awoke, panting and whimpering. "Christine!" he cried out into the night, involuntarily. He needed her. He knew that with her, the nightmares would stop haunting his nights. Of course, not all dreams were nightmares. Sometimes, he dreamed of her… Her singing, or talking to him about something he could never remember. Some nights he just relived the night she said no to him. The night she ran away with Raoul. Those dreams usually ended with the gunshot, and Erik woke up, clutching his stomach. But he wouldn't call those dreams nightmares, as _she_ was in them.

He must have fallen asleep on his "throne". The darkness must have lulled him to sleep... _The Music of the Night…_ it didn't seem so beautiful without Christine. Everything seemed better when he could share it with her.

Erik shook his head, trying to get rid of those feelings. She was not his. He winced at that thought. But maybe, the battle was not yet over. That thought gave him hope.

Erik wondered where the two lovebirds were. It has been days since any of them directly contacted him. The police was an unpleasant surprise, and Erik was going to make sure Raoul understands that.

The darkness that Erik was in was complete and consuming. Concerned that the Police would return, Erik kept the canvas down, disallowing any kind of light to reach his home. When the dark would have frightened or terrified a normal human, Erik welcomed it. It let him think, one of his senses resting. Besides, Erik could see in the dark better than most humans. Because he spent his lifetime under the Paris Opera House, his pupils no longer needed to dilate as slowly as a normal person's eyes to adjust to the dark, and it was always an advantage for Erik.

How much longer would he have to wait for their arrival? Erik didn't like waiting. Maybe he should pay them a visit? The thought was alluring, as Erik yearned for something to do, but he knew that he had his reputation to sustain. If they need something from the Opera Ghost, they should come to him themselves. Erik smiled at his title. Yes, he was the Opera Ghost. And all the Opera Ghost could do now, was wait.

Christine sat alone, hugging her knees. Tears stopped a while ago, but she was too scared to get out of the room. Raoul was so angry… and in his eyes she also saw something else, something she could never forget. He was disgusted. She disgusted him.

She hugged her tears closer, and as much as she felt like crying, tears would not come. She has cried too much. Her eyes ached and were no doubt red. She was hungry as she sat all day waiting for Raoul to calm down, which never did happen.

She quietly stood up and went into the washroom, and stopped abruptly in front of a mirror on the wall. She looked horrible. Her eyes were red and there were large bluish bags under them. Her lips were swollen and her nose was pink. Her eyelashes were glued together from all the crying, and her hair was such a mess.

She silently washed her face, cold water sobering her up. She needed to do something. Raoul was obviously not going to benefit from his plans, and she knew that if she didn't do anything, Erik could get mad enough to kill him.

And even though she has been crying for what seemed like hours and hunger was swallowing her stomach she knew that she had to talk to Erik. Involuntarily she welcomed that thought, spending some time with Erik seemed so much better than-

She stopped herself before she could think any more of this. Obviously, crying for such a long time affected her logic. She wiped her face with a hand towel and decided. She needed to go down, below the Opera House. She knew it would be dangerous, but in her heart she knew Erik would not hurt her. Raoul, however, could.


	21. Trouble

Erik sat patiently in the silence, waiting. He was very good at that. Waiting. Maybe for something to happen, or sometimes, just waiting for time to pass by. But this particular moment, Erik was waiting for something special to happen. He wasn't sure what, but he knew it included Christine, or possibly Raoul.

There was no clock in the room, no way of telling how much time passed. Erik like it that way. Not knowing. Ignorance is bliss, he always told himself.

But not today. Today, Erik felt fed up with waiting. When there was nothing to do, nothing to make him busy, Erik's mind played tricks on him. His recent nightmare only proved that.

Erik winced as he thought of that unpleasant dream. The waking up and screaming _her _name was even more embarrassing.

Erik closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure, but it didn't work. His mind and body were aching for action. Erik squinted hard, attempting to calm his emotions, but failed.

He stood up, and decided. If they weren't going to come to him, he was going to pay a visit to them. _"They don't have to know I'm there…"_ Erik thought, _"I'll just see what is going on,"_

Christine's footsteps echoed in the dark alley, and she walked, not daring to look back, scared, but determined to reach the Opera House. She knew that Erik would be waiting, eager for news. She just hoped he wouldn't harm her, but deep down, she knew he wouldn't. He was Erik…

Despite her attempts to stop, Christine felt her heart skip a beat when she thought of Erik. Was it because of pity? Hate? Fear? Christine stopped herself right there, not wanting to discover any more… emotions.

She had to talk to him. She had to end it. End all of this madness.

She knew it wasn't only his fault.

She thought of that night when she picked the grasshopper and she felt fear fogging up her mind. She was so scared that day…

However, Christine felt thankful that Erik had tricked her that night. He preserved her life. She was stupid to throw it away like that. Surely, a lifetime with Erik wouldn't be all that bad…

_"Stop!" _Christine told herself. _"You are in love with Raoul. And he is madly in love with you."_ But somehow those words didn't sound right, as she remembered the last time she saw him. The words he spoke, and how deeply they hurt her.

Christine continued walking until she reached the narrow tunnel that was usually filled with street performers and singers during the day. Now it was completely abandoned. She felt a surge of relief as she saw how empty it was, not a soul to stop or question her.

Christine entered the tunnel, picking up her pace, eager to finally reach her destination, when suddenly, she hear rapid footsteps from the back. She slowed down slightly, not wanting to make it look like she was running.

The footsteps slowed down as well. Soon, the footsteps were joined with other footsteps, these ones heavier, and louder.

In a matter of seconds it sounded like a whole group of people was approaching her. Christine slowly started picking up her pace again, fear rising in her throat.

"Woah, there!" cried one of them.

"Are you running from us?" cried the other one, with a much lower voice. Christine automatically guessed that he was the one with the heavy footsteps.

"Don't run, pretty girl," another one said, his voice higher than the others'.

"Stop!" the first one growled, and she obeyed silently, not wanting to risk. She was so afraid, she couldn't properly think. She wanted to scream, but looking around, she realized there was no one there to help her. She was alone, with a group of horny men.

"Now, don't run from us, alright?" he whispered, but his whisper was so loud it bounced off the walls, haunting her. This felt so much like a nightmare, and yet she couldn't wake up. "How much do you want?" he murmured, taking out some bills.

"I… I…" Christine stuttered, trying to find the right words, any words to express herself. But fear consumed her, knocking out her breath, making it impossible for her to think straight. "I'm not a whore!" she choked, making the men laugh.

"Alright then, what do you want?" the man asked, his voice hoarse. There were five of them, she could now see. There was one short bald man in a jumpsuit, one tall, skinny man, and two similar looking men who must have been brothers. And, of course, the tall, muscular, bear-like man who was talking to Christine. He had a beard and smelt of alcohol.

Christine shook her head as an answer to his question, unable to utter another word.

"Well, that's a pity…" the man said, turning away. His buddies looked at him, their expressions confused and angry. Relief flooded over Christine, but the state only lasted for a matter of seconds. The bear-like man laughed, his laugh loud and scary, and turned back around, pushing her against the wall, pinning her hands down, breathing onto her neck.

"No!" Christine gasped, but her voice was lost in the laughter of the men, their cheering and whistling. She felt suffocated and helpless.

One of the men tugged at her brown cloak that covered up her dress and tore it off, tossing it onto the floor. The other grabbed the bottom part of her dress, and dragged it up, revealing her white nightdress that she didn't take off as she was in a hurry. He tugged harder, ripping it off, and carrying a part of the top part of the dress with it, leaving her in her only in her nightdress.


	22. To The Rescue

Christine gasped for air, looking up, trying to escape. She felt hands on her. Many hands. And she hated that feeling. She felt her hair being grabbed, her arms touched, lips planting kissed on her neck and alcohol being breathed onto her face. One of them tried to kiss her but she hit him with her forehead with all her might.

He cursed under his breath and raising his hand, slapped her hard across her cheek, making her head hit the wall that she was being pressed against. For a second, she felt nothing. She felt blank. But then it all came back to her, making her feel nauseated and weak.

She closed her eyes, not able to look and see what was happening anymore.

Through a haze, she felt the bear-like man suddenly disappear. She wouldn't dare to open her eyes, afraid that he was just taking his clothes off, or unbuttoning his zipper. But he didn't come back. And soon, all hands were off her, leaving her unsupported, and she slid down the wall, onto the floor.

Unable to wait anymore, she opened her eyes, and couldn't believe them.

The bear-like man was lying on the floor, his body limp, and his head twisted back 180 degrees. His eyes looked dead, but somehow she could see fear in them.

The other men were standing not far from him, not daring to approach him, screaming, some in fear, some in anger.

In front of them stood a tall, cloaked figure. His face was invisible in the darkness, but she could see two glistening yellow eyes. Relief washed over her, and she tried to stand up to walk over to him, and stand behind him as he protects her but her body was exhausted and unwilling to cooperate.

However, Erik took no notice of her. Panic was rising in her heart, was that not Erik? Was he going to kill all of those men and then take her for himself? Would he do worse things than them?

She simply watched as one of the men produced a small knife from their pocket, threatening to stab the hooded figure. He approached him menacingly, waving his knife around.

But the hooded man grasped his wrist, slightly twisting it, making the knife drop. Knowing what was coming next Christine shut her eyes and put her hands over her ears. She thought she heard a distant crack but she didn't want to think about what produced that sound…

She sat there for seconds, maybe minutes, with her eyes and ears closed, waiting for something to happen. She felt like a child thinking that if she closed her eyes no one would notice her.

After what felt like hours she opened her eyes, but what she saw made her want to shut them close again, even tighter.

In front of her, was Erik, crouching. His hood was off, and his horrible, disfigured face was visible. Christine couldn't help but remember the night she chose the grasshopper… But what was so odd about the situation was that Erik was simply squatting, immobile, staring at her face. Was this a dream? Christine felt confused.

Seeing her fear, Erik instantly moved his hands to his face, covering it. His hand was covered in blood, and left stains on his face, as well. He looked down, as if he was ashamed. But Christine felt incredibly glad to see him. He saved her from the men. "_Maybe he isn't such a monster after all…"_ a voice inside her head said, and she had to agree. Erik saved her.

As Erik sat in front of Christine, he felt… _good._

He hasn't felt that well in days. He felt somehow involved, a part of something. In his cave he felt alone and unimportant. But he just saved her. He saved her life.

He looked at her, and all of the emotions came rushing to him. He wanted her, he wanted her to sing, he wanted to kiss her, he wanted to see her every day and sleep beside her every night. He wanted her to comfort him when he had nightmares and sing to him as he fell asleep like his mother never did.

He wanted to pick her up, to carry her into his… _house_. But he wouldn't dare to break the precious silence. He felt close to her, more close than he had been when she came to seduce him in exchange for freedom.

He loved Christine.

He knew how silly it was, sitting there, with a bloody hand on his face, not wanting to scare the beautiful woman in front of him with his hideous looks, and yet wanting her so badly.

"I…" she muttered, looking exhausted and still scared. Her voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and empty. "We need to talk," she said, words tumbling out of her mouth quickly.

And right then, the moment was gone. All the complications of their "relationship" dawned upon Erik, and he felt hopeless and alone once again.

He nodded, standing up, then looked down at Christine, and bended over, sliding one hand over her shoulder and picking her legs up with the other one. She looked like she was going to say something but she quickly pressed her lips together. She was in no state to walk by herself.

Erik smiled to himself. He was holding the one woman he will ever love in his arms. And she did not mind. The beauty of the situation lighted up his world and made it look almost… bright. But then again, with _her _by his side, everything looked bright.


	23. Past the Point of No Return

Erik was careful not to trip over the shreds of Christine's dress as he descended down into the tunnels that he called his home with the love of his life in his arms, barely conscious.

Erik kept his face straight, looking forward, careful not to turn it, not wanting to expose her to his ugliness. Was this love? Afraid to look at her not wanting to scare her and yet needing to see her face so badly…

_"Is she in any condition to sing?" _Erik wondered to himself. He wanted to hear her voice… As he approached the river he hesitated, not knowing what to do. To his relief, she shuffled a little, easing out of his arms and weakly hobbling over to the boat, sliding in. He followed, speechlessly, quietly rowing over to the other side.

"We need to talk…" Christine said, getting out of the boat as they approached the shore. She looked weak and pale.

Erik nodded knowingly, unable to do anything else.

"I…" Christine hesitated, rubbing her eyes. "Thank you," she muttered quietly, avoiding eye contact. _"My face!"_ Erik realized. He quickly walked to his little table with his collection of different terrifying masks and slipped on his favorite classic white one.

"Thank you," Christine repeated, looking into his eyes this one, her eyes apologetic and grateful. "I could have died" she said her voice serious and frightened.

"You would have died," Erik responded softly but confidently. He wanted her to know that he saved her. He was the one that protected her from the gang. "_Not Raoul," _he thought to himself, with pride.

Christine cleared her throat. "How's Raoul?" Erik asked, feeling more confident now. Christine face crumpled and her eyebrows knotted. _"Fantastic!"_ Erik thought to himself. Raoul was obviously not well.

"He's… Erik I don't know what you did to him. But it needs to stop now," she said, trying to put as much courage and sureness in her voice as she could. Erik looked at her, vulnerable, frightened. All at his mercy.

"What _I _did to him?" Erik said, smiling. "I barely touched him. Let me remind you, _you _were the one that brought me his bedroom key. But I returned it, as you remember," Erik was about to continue but Christine stopped him.

"Yes, I know," she said, wincing at his words. "But he is different now. His brother's death… it's just… he's gone mad! He wants revenge, and that is all he can think about!" She cried out, tears springing to her eyes.

Erik laughed loudly, and Christine flinched. A normal conversation with Erik was obviously impossible. But then again, Erik and normal are two things you can never combine. "My dear," Erik said, his voice completely changed. A minute ago he sounded careful, even concerned. But now, he was back to his maniac self. "Did you even consider the option that _you_ did this to him? By betraying him? By taking your love away from him?" He pronounced the last question carefully, looking her dead in the eyes, his yellow pupils dancing in the darkness.

"Stop," Christine whispered. "My heart still belongs to him, he will change back." She muttered, her voice unsure and hesitant. Was she doubting what she was saying? Christine's head was clouded with Erik's words and the previous events of the night.

"Oh, will he? Perhaps, the Chagny brat grew up? Perhaps he learned humility, grief, and betrayal? He is not changing back!" Erik shouted. Christine jumped; his words were loud and hurtful. Why did they hurt so much? _"Perhaps there is truth in them, that's why?"_ she pushed away that thought, hesitantly.

"No, Raoul is not that kind of person," Christine whispered, barely audible for Erik to hear.

"Not that kind of person?" Erik repeated, narrowing his eyes. "My dear, everybody is that kind of person. You just need to push them hard enough. You see, I was pushed back when I was a little kid. Do you think I was born this way?" Erik waved his hand over his face, and then realized his mistake, and muttered, "well, of course, the face was always there, but its not that face that's killing people, is it?" he said, laughing at his own joke.

"Erik, Raoul is not like that. You are a monster!" Christine cried, adrenaline rushing through her blood. "Your face makes no difference, it's the repulsive nature of yours that counts!"

Erik laughed once more, his anger growing. Christine realized her mistake. She was in a dark, cold place with a bad tempered maniac separated from the world by a river. Making him mad was something she definitely should not have done. Erik narrowed his eyes at her, and she looked away.

"Really? Not the face, you say?" he said quietly but menacingly, and slowly took off his mask, giving Christine just enough time to look away. "Now listen, sweetheart," he spit, his words cutting through the silence. "everybody has evil inside of them. Some just show it… some wait… some hide it, all of their lives, disguising it under layers of happiness, politeness and kindness. But sometimes, the nicest people hold the strangest demons. You see, I wear a mask. A physical mask," he said, clutching his white mask. "but I display more of my true colors than most people ever would. Their masks are their lies. Their denial of their true character," he finished, smiling dangerously. Christine listened to all of what he said, and she felt herself believing every word of it. She hated how much she trusted him, and why? Erik had a way of making people believe whatever he said.

"Oh, Christine," he said, his tone back to caring. "Sometimes, fear is all it takes to set your demons free. You would know, wouldn't you?" he whispered. It sounded like his voice was dangerously close, yet he was standing steps away. "When you were scared, you came running to me, betraying your love," he laughed quietly once more. Christine winced, he was telling the truth. "I was proud of you that night," he said, and suddenly he was right next to her, stroking her cheek with his long, cold fingers. "And Raoul," he spit his name out, like it was a swearword. "Raoul showed his true colors, as well. Revenge is a great stimulator. Whether he will go back to his old artificially sweet self or not, you have seen who he really is. He will never be the same in your eyes," he stopped stroking her cheek and walked away. His shoes clicked against the ground and teased her.

"Wait!" Christine said, unsure of what she was going to say. She didn't want him to go away. She felt like he told her more truth than anyone ever has.

Erik felt splendid. She swallowed his words, believing every one of them. He wasn't lying, he was telling her his thought on humans, the reason why he hated them so badly. He wanted her to see the world like he saw it; he wanted to share his thoughts. And finally, he could.

He turned around, and Christine gasped, stumbling back, covering her face. _"The mask!" _Erik remembered, but made no move to retrieve it. His words would lose all effect if he did. And he couldn't afford that to happen.

"Sorry," Christine whispered, fear swallowing her words. His face… she had forgotten how awful and disfigured it was. _"That… man had saved me. The least I can do is look into his eyes._" Christine noted that he was also the man that made her betray her love, screwed up Raoul and damaged their relationship, perhaps permanently. She silently raised her eyes, meeting his. Focusing on his eyes made her feel better, the bright yellow made everything else seem duller, and kept her from constantly staring at his nonexistent nose, or his yellow skin, his sunken eyes, creased, disfigured forehead with unspeakable blood-red patterns, or his horrible teeth and thin lips curled up in a ghastly smile.

Erik could not help but smile at her actions. She was looking him right in the eyes. Obviously, his earlier _heroic_ actions and his little speech affected her. He felt in power.

"I…" Christine stuttered. "Stop it," she said helplessly, unable to better express herself. "Stop it all…" she said again.

"My child, I cannot," he said, threw his head backward and laughed once more. He cocked his head and said, "It's past the point of no return…."


	24. A Different Erik

"Past the point of no return?" Christine repeated, savoring the familiar words.

"Indeed…" Erik said, and turned around. He approached his little table with the masks and Christine noticed that there was also a little monkey with cymbals attached to her hands on it. She smiled at the absurdity of this situation. Unexpectedly Erik started humming a familiar tune, lost in his own world of music and madness.

"Erik," Christine interrupted, her voice soft. He turned around, child-like wonder in his eyes. He changed his emotions so fast… "Erik, what can I do…" she asked.

Erik smiled, a strange glint in his eyes. He had earned her trust. She was asking him what to do… "Why, what can you do?" Erik responded. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because…" Christine stuttered. Why _was _she asking him? Asking Erik for advice… it sounded crazy. But somehow, he seemed knowing, reliable. This unstable, emotionally and mentally scarred creature seemed to have some answers. Not wanting to tell him that, she simply shrugged.

Erik smiled again. Christine was asking him what to do… "I still love you," he uttered, his voice serious and business-like, surprising her. His words set an uncomfortable silence and Christine shuffled uneasily, not looking into his eyes. His words only confused her further. Made her feel more responsible for the situation.

"Would you still choose death over a lifetime with me?" he asked. He wanted to know the answer.

"Don't…" Christine sighed. That was all she could do. Strange enough, Erik nodded, understanding. "You changed…" Christine mused out loud. The previous Erik would have grasped the earlier opportunity; using the key she gave him to kill Raoul. Earlier Erik would have killed her a long time ago.

Erik thought about her words carefully. "Have I?" he questioned, more himself than her. He shook his head. All of these thoughts were unpleasant. His face suddenly became brighter and he asked, "Would you like to sing?" he asked hopefully, like a little boy wanting some candy.

Christine wanted to laugh at the craziness of all of this. She shook her head, the last thing she wanted to do was sing. As much as the presence of her teacher inspired her, she couldn't think of singing right now. Erik frowned, "Then would you like to listen while I play?" he offered.

Christine looked up, trying hard not to show her disgust as she looked into his eyes. "Yes," she answered, surprising herself.

Erik smiled, and looked so… _different_. She saw this look on him sometimes, when she sang to him. But it was never this… sincere.

He loved her. He loved her. Erik knew it was undeniable. He loved Christine. Erik realized that he needed more courage talking to her than he did for killing people. Erik smiled to himself, how silly he sounded. Summing up his bravery, he extended his long-nailed, bony hand to Christine. "Come," he murmured, and guided her to his piano, where he played to her for what seemed like forever.


	25. Back To Reality

"Stop," Christine said. She didn't want him to stop but she knew she couldn't escape to his world of music forever and hope for everything to work out by itself. Or could she..?

Erik stopped playing. All of this time, while his fingers created the hypnotizing, beautiful music, his eyes were focused on her face, looking at her as she lost herself in his music, swaying and humming. It made him happier. He looked at her, puzzled.

"I need to do something," she whispered. His gaze remained unchanging, his expression same. "I can't escape the world like that," she said.

"I have. For a long time now," Erik smiled. His smile frightened her. She wished he would put his mask back on. However well he played, or whatever he told her that made her believe that everything else she thought was a lie, his face was still disfigured and horrifying and she knew it would take a long time to get used to it.

"I know, but Raoul is out there. And I did this… to him. Whatever you told me, it might be true," Erik narrowed his eyes, making her flinch, "it _is _true, but I… I need to make sure he is alright. He might do something stupid," a sudden thought intruded her mind. "How did you escape the police?" she asked, remembering Raoul's frustration.

Erik smiled his secretive smile. "Long story," he said, more to himself than to her. Christine was surprised by how much she wanted to hear it. How much she wanted to know. Erik seemed to know everything about her… but when it came to him, his past remained a horrible, mystifying, scary secret.

"I need to go…" Christine repeated, with more certainty this time. She needed to see how Raoul was doing. She walked towards the boat, and heard his footsteps behind her. She turned around, and to her surprise, as if he heard her thoughts, his mask was on. "What..?" she muttered, but he cut her off.

"After the events of last night, I would like to walk you to your destination," he said politely.

"That's not necessary," she muttered. As scared as she was, the sun must have already risen and seeing Erik would only drive Raoul crazier.

"Ah, that was not a question," Erik said, smiling. His tone was mocking and dangerous, and she knew she had no choice.

After they crossed the river, ascended the stairs, and exited the Opera House, Christine stopped right in her tracks. The bodies were still there, one of them soaked with blood. She didn't remember any blood last night, but not wanting to call back the memories, she turned around, taking the other way. Erik followed behind her. She felt strange, but safe.


	26. The Long Walk Home

Christine heard Erik's steps behind her, like an echo, following her, guarding her. She felt strangely at home. The music that Erik played to her was still in her head, and she loved the feeling of it comforting her. She didn't know what it was that Erik played for her, she couldn't recognize it and yet it was so familiar. She wasn't sure it was music at all. Not that it was too beautiful to be music, no, it was to strange, too different from the common concept of music. It was pure emotion, pure talent. Notes were just pawns used as words to tell a story. It was sad, but strangely joyful. Mysterious, but also incredibly clear and easy to understand once you concentrate on it. It was beautiful, dark, magnetic and hypnotizing. The music was Erik. He poured himself out; he composed this strange music using everything he ever knew, everything he ever felt.

"Did you like what I played for you?" Erik's hoarse, wondering voice made her jump up, it was as if he read her mind. "I apologize," he muttered quickly, embarrassed by her reaction. Christine could not see his face, but she knew that even if she turned around it would be behind a mask.

"No, it's quite alright, I was just deep in thought," Christine said quickly, words rushing out of her mouth. She paused and then continued, "I loved the music- the piece you played. It was very…" she hesitated, not wanting to insult Erik by using common words but at the same time afraid that if she told him how she really felt about the music he would get the wrong idea. "Different," she finished, satisfied with her answer.

Erik chuckled darkly behind her. "Yes, it is," he agreed quietly. There was a moment of silence and Christine could feel his uncertainty behind her, his hesitation. After what seemed like minutes he asked, "Is that all it was to you? Different?" His words were quiet, but she could hear them loud and clear.

Her mind rushed as she tried to figure out what she could say to him. _"He was so open with me this evening,"_ she thought to herself, _"the least I could do is tell him the truth."_ Christine slowly inhaled and murmured, "Well, no," she said the words carefully, "I thought it was very… special." She finished. She knew this wouldn't be enough, and Erik's sharp intake of breath proved her right. "Erik," she said, braver now, "the music was breathtaking," she suddenly stopped, looking back at Erik. She waited for him to slowly approach her and started walking once more when he was by her side. She could swear she felt his eyebrows rise, but then again, his face was out of her sight behind the mask.

"Erik, I could feel… you…. through the music. And it was beautiful" she smiled to herself, and looked back at him. When her eyes met his, she frowned, how hard it was to see what he was feeling behind this mask! Summing up all of her courage, she gently asked, "Erik, could you please take your mask off?"

The question obviously shocked Erik, as his whole mask lifted, obviously supported by his eyebrows and forehead. "Wha…" he started, but his voice faded out, and he shook his head in confusion, "Why?"

"I cannot see what you are feeling. Your eyes are not enough, Erik. I'd like to see your face while I am talking to you," Christine said, surprised by her own courage. Erik was, too. The mask did not move an inch down, and Christine almost smiled to herself.

"Uh…" Erik grunted. Through the little holes in his mask, Christine saw surprise in his eyes, and something less recognizable. Fear? Christine abandoned that thought. Why would Erik be scared? "We are on the street," Erik muttered.

"I am aware, Erik, but there is no one else with us. Please take your mask off, you asked me a question and I'd like to see your face to be able to answer it properly," Christine explained.

"You would like to see my face?" Erik whispered. He sounded like a little confused boy, scared and lost. Christine's heart tightened at the sound of his voice…

"Yes, Erik, in order to talk to you." She hesitated, and added softly, "I'd like to see your face,"

Erik nodded silently, and slipped off his mask, placing it in a large pocket awkwardly sawn onto his black cloak-like coat. Christine looked at his face, and fear gripped her throat once more. Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes widened as she blinked rapidly. Erik noticed her reaction and quickly looked away, embarrassed by his ugliness.

"I'm sorry, Erik," Christine tried to explain, stuttering. Erik held one bony hand up, shushing her.

"Tell me about my music," he said quietly, and reached for his pocket but Christine reached out and stopped his hand, grabbing his tiny bony wrist, slowly dragging it back down. But even when it was down, she didn't let go, awkwardly holding it.

"Your music spoke to me, Erik," Christine continued. "You spoke to me, through your music. When you sat there, you _were_ the music, and the music was you," she hesitated, and then added, "and it was beautiful…"

There was no sound but the soft thudding of their feet as they walked back to the Chagny house, slowly, both eager to make the most of their little walk. Unspoken feelings hung in the air, and the silence spoke to them more than words did.

Erik was truly happy, being held by this charming young woman that he loved so dearly. He felt her touch, burning through the fabric of his cloak. He felt her warmth, even though the weather was cold and it was nighttime. He liked to believe that it was her love that burned through her skin and the material, and he thought of that as they walked, closer and closer to their destination.

As for Christine, she felt unhappy. Holding Erik's hand, she realized how much she loved and missed her Raoul. Christine realized that all her life, she loved whoever could make her happy. Whoever could protect her… and that night, it was Erik. But even under Erik's watchful gaze and the under the hypnosis of his beautiful music, she knew she loved Raoul. Like she loved her father, the way that could not be undone. She wanted to let go of Erik's hand, she knew she was giving him false hopes, but she couldn't bear to do so, knowing how it will hurt him. Christine felt mentally trapped, unable to think, Erik's music refusing to wear off, Raoul's madness making her sad.

"We're here," Erik quietly whispered, breaking off her train of thought.


	27. Caught

"Thank you for escorting me, Erik," Christine said hesitantly as she carefully let go of his hand. "Thank you for everything," she said quieter, looking down. "I have to go now," she muttered, turning her back on him and hurrying up the steps, to the front door.

Looking at her leave, Erik felt the oh-so-familiar sadness coming back to him. She made him believe that it could go away, even if only for one night. He felt lonely again. Abandoned by everyone he ever met in his life. A reject. Not wanted. The only way he could be remembered was through fear, and Erik was good that, he knew.

Another feeling slowly crept up as he watched her leave. He felt concerned. It was a strange feeling for him, one he only felt when his plans went wrong, which rarely happened. But that was concern for his own life, and it was never this strong. Caring for Christine felt so much more important.

Christine regretted leaving him like that. Who knew what ideas he might develop, sitting alone, thinking over the events of this night. But all she could do was walk away. She needed to see Raoul, explain everything.

Christine silently opened the door, surprised that it was already open. The view that was in front of her made her stop and stagger a few steps backward, hitting the door with her back, shutting it close.

In front of her, was one of the biggest messes she had ever seen. Every one of the chairs in front of the dining table was turned over or broken. Spoons and forks were scattered all over the place, the knives were sticking out of random places, one in a chair, the other one buried in the soft cushions on the sofa. White pieces of broken dishes were covering the floor, in a strange, C-shaped pattern, blood on some of them. The drawers of each and every single cupboard were open, clothes, papers and pens on the floor. The huge mirror in the foyer was cracked, bloody fingerprint covering it.

Her first thought was that they had been robbed. She ran around like crazy, trying to find her beloved Raoul, eager to make sure he was not dead. "Raoul!" she called out, her voice cracking and sobs starting to rise in her throat. "Raoul! Where are-" she broke off, unable to continue, and just looked, running from corner to corner.

Feeling helpless and lost she slid down a wall with some wallpaper torn off and a shattered frame with a torn-up photograph hanging on it. She buried her face in her hands, but she was unable to cry. The panic was overcoming her, blocking tears, blocking her breath.

Looking up, she almost yelped. Raoul was standing in front of her, a few steps away, and his hands bloody. His eyes looked crazy. His pupils looked huge, and she could no longer see the familiar brown in his eyes that she loved so much. His eyelids were spread so far he looked almost comical, if it weren't for the red veins covering his eyeballs. It looked like he was about to cry, his eyes looked glassy, glistening, but not one tear escaped. His eyebrows were arched in a weird form, a strange S-shaped form. His lips were parted, his mouth twisted in a bizarre grimace. His nostrils were flaring, and his chest was heaving. He was panting, had he been running?

"Raoul!" Christine cried, and reached out her hands to him, "I thought something had happened! What is going on here?"

Raoul shrugged, and then looked at her hands in disgust.

"Raoul what is wrong?" Christine whispered. "Raoul did you do all of this?" she motioned to the room with her trembling hand.

Raoul nodded dangerously, looking almost pleased with himself.

Christine felt terror seize her, fog her mind. Had Raoul gone completely crazy? Was this it? She didn't want to believe that. "Raoul, please, talk to me," Christine begged, her tone pleading.

Raoul lowered his head, looking at his hands. For a moment there was nothing. He looked shocked. He looked like her old Raoul. But the change went away as fast as it came. His expression changed back into his angry grimace, and he picked up a kitchen knife off the floor, and stabbing it into a nearby canapé, screamed "I saw you with him! And don't you deny it!"


	28. Welcome Home

"It's not what you think it is…" Christine whispered, her face going white, her mind racing, her fingers shaking wildly. "It's not what you think it is," she repeated again, more to herself than him, unable to utter any other words.

"Of course!" Raoul screamed and laughed a throaty dark laugh, tossing his head backward. Suddenly he grew quiet, and slowly turned his head back, looking at Christine intently, watching her. He slowly cocked his head, like a beast ready to attack. Christine pursed her lips tight, and looked up at him. _"Raoul, it's me!"_ She wanted to scream, _"Your Christine, please don't leave me. Please don't disappear…"_ But the person studying her right now was not Raoul.

He slowly bent down, and crawled up to her on his knees. He looked harmless, but his eyes screamed "murderer"… He looked like a true maniac.

"Raoul, Erik and I…" Christine wanted to explain but Raoul simply raised one bloodstained finger up to her lips, covering them, pressing hard against them, and she felt her lips squished between his finger and her teeth, and it hurt, but she could not make a sound.

He slowly removed the finger, keeping his eyes on her. He chuckled lightly, as if remembering a joke, and then silently raised his finger to his mouth, and placed it on his lips, pressing on them as he did on hers, squishing them. After a few moments he removed his finger, and his hand was back at his side.

Christine watched him intently, but all she could think about was that this man was a maniac, and she was at his mercy.

"It's not what you think it is," Raoul repeated her words, mimicking her tone and voice, but his expression serious and worried. "Is it not?" He asked gently, but before she could answer, he slapped her hard across her face, making her head his the wall, "Is it not?!" he screamed, and slapped himself across his own cheek.

He was truly mad. Absolutely crazy. And right now, all Christine could feel looking at him, apart from the burning pain in her cheek, was fear. She was scared of Raoul, scared that he would hurt her, more than he already has.

Tears rushed to her eyes and one silently dropped onto the floor, Raoul, noticing that, quietly bent down, scooped a little with his finger, and tasted it, closing his eyes. Christine felt like she was in some parallel universe, his actions were usual and unfamiliar. She felt that she couldn't breathe, the things he was doing were making her nervous, afraid.

He slowly removed his finger from his mouth, and smiled.

"You see," he said quietly, as if making a casual conversation. "This is NOTHING!" he screamed out the word, spitting all over her face, but she wouldn't dare to wipe it away, so she simply listened. "Compared to the tears I shed today…" he continued slowly, pronouncing each word with great care.

"Christine," he said matter-of-factly, "you made me cry," he finished. He looked at her, as if expecting an answer.

"Raoul, I never wanted to. I am sorry, the reason why I went to Erik was not what you think-"

"Aha!" Raoul yelled, cutting her off. She thought he was going to continue, but he just stared at her, a look of surprise on his face, along strange confusion and betrayal.

"Raoul, I went to Erik to tell him that it was over," she lied quietly, smiling sadly. "I promise," she said, her voice soft.

"It's all over?" Raoul asked, cocking his head to one side.

"It's all over," Christine repeated smiling. She wished for those words to be true, and at this moment, she felt how true they could be. If Raoul believe her, she would deal with Erik later. Maybe _her _Raoul would come back, feeling safer.

"Oh but it's not," Raoul whispered. He sounded menacing, dangerous. "It," he whispered, standing up, "is," he muttered, approaching a nearby cupboard, "not," he continued, removing a single white plate from the drawer, "over!" he screamed, sending the plate crashing onto the floor close to Christine. There was a loud sound of breaking glass as the plate shattered, pieces of it flying everywhere. Then there was silence.


	29. The Terror Continues

"Ah!" Christine gasped as one of the pieces of the broken plate sunk into her arm. She clutched her arm tightly; causing the shrapnel to dig into her skin, blood coming out quickly. Christine gasped once more, quickly moving her hand. She tried to take out the piece of glass but it was buried to deep inside of her, a little tip of the iceberg pointing out.

A look of worry crossed Raoul's face, and for a second, he looked scared, concerned. He parted his lips, as if to say her name, help her, but quickly enough, the look was replaced as his grimace returned.

"Raoul, why?" Christine whispered quietly, blood pouring down her hand. The wound was deep, but she could feel no pain. Her body was numb, fear shutting down all possible feelings.

Raoul bent down once again, and extended his hand, as if to scoop a bit of blood from her hand with his finger, but Christine, knowing too well what he was going to do, stopped his hand, shaking her head.

"Raoul, what have you done?" she asked in a whisper, choking on her own words. She struggled to get up, but all her power had left her. Leaning on the wall and placing her hand on a coffee table for support, she managed to stand up.

Looking him straight in the eyes, she asked once more, "Raoul, what have you done?" He looked back at her, as if he understood nothing of what she had said. He simply stared, his eyes blank, his lips pursed. He slowly shook his head, a silent "no" to his own question, and continued staring at her, his eyes intent.

"Raoul," realization dawned upon Christine suddenly, "Where is Theresa?" Theresa was their old, kind maid. She stayed at the house all the time, even during the nights when all other servants retired to their homes. "Raoul?" Christine asked again.

A look of regret touched his face but it was gone in a matter of seconds.

"Raoul?" Christine asked louder. Her mind was denying any possible answer to that question. Theresa must have woken up; the mayhem he caused was enough to wake up the whole house.

Raoul shrugged, looking confused.

"Raoul what did you to Theresa? Our maid? Theresa?" Christine stuttered helplessly, begging him for an explanation. She loved Theresa dearly; she was a kind old lady and always made delicious tea. "Theresa?" Christine repeated, looking into his eyes.

After a few seconds, recognition spread across Raoul's face and he looked like a proud little boy who just did something very bad.

"Raoul… no…" Christine gasped for air. He couldn't have.

Raoul slowly turned his head in the direction of the stairs, and Christine's heart skipped a beat.

Theresa's body was at the bottom of the stairs, her skin pale and her eyes wide open. She had a large round wound on her forehead, which looked a little like the scar that Erik had on his face. It looks horrifying, and Christine looked up, at the wall, which was equally frightening. On the wall was a large splatter of dark red blood. Some of the blood dripped down, creating a pattern on the wall. It was like one of these "labyrinth" games, where Theresa's dead, limp body was the final destination.

Christine looked back at Raoul, her eyes wide in disbelief. "What did she ever do to you?!" she choked, words tumbling out of her mouth.

Raoul smiled, "She tried to stop me…" he whispered, and surprisingly, a single tear rolled down his cheek. He caught it with his finger and placed it into his mouth.

Christine could no longer bear the strangeness and terror of this situation. She closed her eyes, shutting out the room, Theresa's body, and the crazy murderer standing in front of her. She tried to remember Erik's music, but she couldn't. Erik wasn't here. The music could only be where he was, as he was the music, itself.

"Christine," Raoul asked, amused.

Christine opened her eyes. Raoul was one step closer to her, just one step away. Dangerously close. "Christine, don't close your eyes again," he shook his head, as if getting frustrated at a misbehaving child.

Christine silently nodded. She needed to somehow escape this place. She needed to leave. To somehow run away.


	30. A Broken Heart

Christine thought as fast as she could. She needed to formulate a plan. A way to escape. If she stayed, death was guaranteed. He killed Theresa. That was enough proof that he wouldn't hesitate to kill her. The Raoul that loved her was deep inside this monster.

"Christine," Raoul murmured, "Christine, Christine, Christine…" he smiled. "A beautiful name for a beautiful lady," he said flirtatiously. "You have no idea how hard I fought for you. Even when I was so young, I would do anything for you," he winced, remembering the past. Christine stared at him motionlessly. "Christine, when you vanished that night, I had no doubt about what I was going to do. No, not save myself. Save you. Because your health was more important to me than my own…" his voice trailed off as he lost himself in her eyes, and he felt a familiar tingle in his chest. He quickly shook away the feeling, it was unwelcome.

"Christine, on that night, when my brother died, I died a million deaths, myself. I was close to suicide. But it was the thought of _you_ that kept me alive." He hesitated, and then continued. "But when you betrayed me… that night… I had nothing to keep me on this ground. Nothing. I felt no attachment to anything or anyone…" he stopped, and looked straight into her eyes, his gaze piercing. "Except for Erik,"

"Erik. Erik was the one that saved me from death. It all felt so innocent back then, but it is so much more intense now, you know… Christine, that night when I came into your room and saw you crying, I _made_ myself feel pity. Regret. Pain. I didn't feel any of those, they were all unnatural. I felt nothing for you.

"But now, I know it wasn't nothing. I was mad. I was angry. I wanted revenge,"

Christine gasped at his words, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Raoul, no," she started, but he raised his finger, making her stop.

"It wasn't Erik, Christine. Of course, he was a monster. He killed my brother. He tried to take you away from me. But it was not him, who drove me crazy," he paused, "who made me like this…" he said, motioning to himself.

"It was you," he finished, his words burning through the silence.

"No," Christine whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. Guilt and grief fell onto her shoulders like heavy rocks, and she suddenly felt all breath knocked out of her.

"It was you," Raoul repeated, savoring her helplessness. "Christine, you made a mess of everything. You always do. You are so beautiful, so young… and yet somehow, you seem to cause so much trouble. Your innocence is very complicated, you see. It's so dark…

"Christine, you broke my heart. I feel it's broken pieces inside of me. It hurts, physically. I feel the empty space, where my heart should be, but it's not there. Instead of it, there are just… broken pieces.

"You don't love me anymore?" Christine asked, her voice breaking off mid-sentence.

Raoul chuckled sadly. "Of course I do…"

"And I love you!" Christine gasped.

"No…" Raoul shook his head, "no… no… you don't understand. I love you, but at the same time I can't.

Christine stared at him in confusion.

"A broken heart cannot love…" Raoul explained. "There is this illusion of love…" Raoul stopped, looking as if he was concentrating. "It's hard to explain, Christine. Especially to someone like you…"

"Raoul can I not fix it?" Christine said, hope in her voice. "Somehow restart? I will only love you, Raoul. Only you…"

Raoul shook his head, smiling sadly. "No… I'm afraid, Christine, a broken heart cannot be fixed…

"Once it is shattered, it is, and always will be, unable to feel anything but this maddening, soul-wrenching sadness.


	31. Another Lonely Soul

Standing behind a shattered window, Erik had heard everything Raoul had said. He heard it all… Christine's declaration of love, Raoul's little tale... He was returning to the Opera House, but remembering Christine's words, the way she talked of Raoul, saying he was a madman, made him turn around. He didn't know what else he was capable of; he needed to make sure she was safe.

He approached the house and peering through the window, he saw Raoul standing in front of Christine, broken plate on the floor, shrapnel in Christine's arm. His first impulse was to barge in, kill the fool, and take Christine to his lair, but he knew that could end badly, the boy was too close to her. So he listened. He listened, and he heard more than he wanted to hear.

For once in his lifetime, Erik felt that he was not the most miserable being on Earth. Raoul sounded so much like him, when he was alone, talking to himself in his lair, feeling sorry for his miserable life. Raoul's misery sounded so different and yet so alike to his own. He didn't feel alone… it was not the way he felt when he was with Christine, it was different. Erik couldn't say if it was good or not, whether he felt pleased, not being the only one feeling like that... or if he felt sorry for Raoul... as strange and foreign as the feeling was to him, Erik felt it, deep in his heart. He saw his eyes, they were the eyes of a man who lost everything. He saw the way he breathed, the way he sucked in air, filling his lungs with it, hating this feeling of being alive but knowing that he could not afford to die. He saw himself in Raoul.

He looked over to Christine, her pale face, her trembling lips.

Christine looked so weak… frightened. Erik wanted to rush to her, and carry her away. But he knew he couldn't. So he stood, waiting.


	32. The Fall

Christine looked at Raoul, his crazy eyes, twisted mouth, flaring nostrils and arched eyebrows. What he just told her made her sick. She was disgusted of herself. She now understood why he had looked at her so strangely. She saw what he saw when he looked at her. She saw how ugly she was to him.

All she wanted was for everything to stop. She needed peace. And quiet. She wanted to forget. All that she heard today. She wanted to turn back the clock. Perhaps choose the scorpion… or maybe not choose at all. Let Erik kill her.

Death. That thought was welcome to her. It meant peace. Eternal rest.

"What?" Raoul suddenly spit, making her jump. She shook her head quickly, looking down. "Do you expect me to just go away now?" he asked, amused. She shook her head once more, and he lifted his hand, his finger sinking into her chest, his fingernail hurting her skin. "I am not done with you…" he whispered. His eyes looked so dangerous. This was not Raoul.

Adrenaline rushed through her body as fear enveloped her mind. Not thinking of anything but survival, Christine crushed Raoul's foot with hers, hearing his cry of pain, and headed for the door, holding her dress up with both hands.

But before she could make another step, Raoul grabbed her by the shoulders, twirled her around, and held her tight with his outstretched hands. She felt trapped. With all her might, she dug her fingernails into Raoul's arms, making him wince.

Raoul let go of her shoulders, and wanting to get her away from him, shoved her with all his might, pushing her away with his hands.

For a moment, all Christine felt was a flying feeling, and she saw Raoul's panicked expression as traces of her old Raoul showed on his face, and she saw another face, Erik's, in the window behind Raoul. A face so sad and gloomy… crumpled in fear and loss.

And the next second, she crushed forcefully into the wall behind her, her skull hitting the hard surface. For a split second, she felt pain. But then it all went away as darkness swallowed her world.

Erik stood, completely numb, staring at Christine's limp body on the floor as blood slowly trickled down her lovely face. Her eyes were shut close, and her hands lay lifeless along her sides.

Raoul was standing right in front of him, motionless, but Erik paid no attention to him. He was not important. He only needed her.

He felt such loss it made him sick, but he was unable to do anything. He just stood. Watching her, waiting for something to happen, for her to move, for everything to turn out all right. But she never moved.


	33. The Release

Raoul stood in front of Christine's lifeless body, shocked by his own actions. The stress he went through made him develop another personality, another Raoul. And right now, Raoul felt both of his personalities equally strong inside of him, battling each other.

The Raoul that he was just seconds ago was the Raoul he had to become not to loose his mind. Well, he did, in a way. But standing in front of his beautiful Christine's stiff body, he knew it was all over. Like she said, it was, indeed, all over.

He felt all the memories he ever experienced with her, in his head. His head felt so full, so incredibly, uncomfortable full. He wanted to claw at his skin, to hit his head against the wall, do anything to make it stop. Make the memories go away. His mind was telling him to remain the strong Raoul, the maniac Raoul. But the past did not go away.

_"I killed her,"_ he thought, and he felt a part of him die with every second that passed. It was all over.

He looked down at his own bloodstained hands, and felt hatred for himself. Strong, burning hatred. He became something awful, something truly dreadful. He killed people. He killed the woman he loved.

It was all over.

Christine looked so beautiful, even now. The blood looked so bright, contrasted by her pale creamy skin. Her lips were slightly parted. He would never kiss those lips again. He wanted to come up to her, to plant a farewell kiss on her cheek, to say his goodbyes. But he knew he did not deserve it.

He felt all emotions he could possible feel. His head was bursting with memories and his broken heart aching with unbearable pain.

He fell to his knees, and he felt useless. He might as well be dead.

Outside, Erik watched him silently. After a few minutes he silently came in through the window, clutching a gun in his hand. His mask was off, and his hideous face was visible to anyone who looked.

He slowly came up to Raoul, and hesitated. He looked so pathetic. So weak. He could just shoot him right now. He would not even notice.

But that was not what Erik wanted to do. Erik felt no hatred for this man. That strange revelation surprised Erik himself, but with Christine lying on the floor in front of him, it seemed like there wasn't much to hate him for. Or maybe, Erik was still numb from the shock…

Erik gently tapped Raoul on the shoulder, and Raoul turned around, his eyes meeting Erik's. His face did not flinch the slightest as he looked at Erik's disfigured face. Perhaps he was used to it… or maybe he was so stunned he couldn't process what was in front of him. But what really happened was that Raoul realized that it was not his face that he should fear. It was the inside that mattered. And right now, his own nature scared him much more than Erik's. Erik was a killer, yes, a mindless murdered, but Raoul murdered the one person that loved him as dearly as he loved her. He knew it was true. He saw it in her eyes. He was too broken to care. All he wanted was death.

"Hello," Raoul muttered, feeling paralyzed, stupefied. He was standing in front of Erik on his knees, vulnerable and exposed, but somehow, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

"Hello." Erik answered back.

Raoul slowly shook his head, looking down at his hands, staring at them in shock. "Look," he mumbled.

Erik nodded, knowingly. He slowly stretched out his hand, the revolver on his palm.

Raoul looked up in disbelief. "For me?" he asked, stunned.

Erik nodded silently.

"Thank you…" Raoul whispered gratefully, as he took the gun from his hand, weighing it with his hand. "But… why?" Raoul asked, his voice still amazed, "Why help me?" he asked gently.

"I understand…" Erik spoke, and he knew he didn't have to explain anything else. There was silence, but it was not an uncomfortable, strange silence. It was a silence during which Erik and Raoul both felt an unspeakable bond between each other. A bond Erik had never felt before. They were more alike than they ever were… two broken, sad souls.

Grief hung in the air, and they both felt it heavy on their shoulders. Raoul felt lost. He no longer knew who he was. Emotions were overflowing, and memories were haunting him. He could no longer bear it.

All Erik felt was sorrow. As the situation dawned upon him his misery grew. He felt pain. But he knew what Raoul felt. He had felt it before. But no one was there to help him… to hand him the answer to all of his problems.

"Thank you," Raoul repeated, clutching the gun in his hand. His hands looked thankful, filled with gratitude. He slowly raised the gun to his head. He looked at Christine, knowing this was the last time. He looked at her beautiful face, her smooth skin… he loved her. But he knew that life for him was over. Not only because of what happened that night… But because everything had gone wrong for him. He was no longer himself. He could no longer survive the way he used to. There was no way he could ever be happy again, and he knew that.

The silence was heavy and dense.

A loud gunshot pierced the night air, loud and clear. In that gunshot was all of the pain, angst and unconditional love that Raoul Chagny felt in his last moments of life.

For a moment, there was a quiet intake of breath as he swallowed his last breath of air, and then the limp body of the Count de Chagny fell hard onto the wood floor.


	34. Miracles

Erik stood silently in a room with three still bodies. It was like time had stopped, and everything was frozen. He felt numb once again, and for some strange reason, the death of Raoul de Chagny saddened him. As he looked down at his corpse, his blood-covered face and his wide-open eyes, something stung deep down. What was it? Happiness? Relief?

Jealousy?

Erik kneeled quietly, and closed his open eyes. He didn't know why he was doing it. It was an honorable thing to do, but Erik rarely did honorable. So why was he doing this?

Erik felt like the recent events had changed him. He did things he would have never done before, felt things he never imagined he could feel.

He felt strong connections that he had never felt before.

But right now, being the only conscious person in the silent room, Erik felt anything but alone. What he experienced with Raoul was something he had never felt before. It was so strong and yet so silent. It was a bond unbreakable by death. Funny, how he lived his life hating Raoul de Chagny, but now, he felt so much more.

In the last few weeks Erik discovered that there was so much more to Raoul than just his pretty face, foolish character and good manners. Raoul turned out to be almost as hopeless as Erik was.

He killed Christine. That thought pierced his mind, and he stood up quickly, rushing to her.

She looked beautiful. He was afraid to touch her, afraid that she would break under his touch, she looked so delicate. He gently lifted her hand, holding it with his bony fingers. It was still warm...

He felt so alone... it was a familiar emotion, the one he tried to replace with music, but it never did quite work. Unable to do anything else, Erik started to hum. He didn't know what he was humming, and he couldn't hear it, either. He could hear nothing but the distant, teasing sound of Christine's voice in his head as memories of her swirled around as the realization sunk in.

She was the one. The only one. And now she lay in front of him, shattered. He never expected something to hurt so much. Death never hurt him. He welcomed death, they were friends. But somehow now, looking at Christine's limp body Erik felt none of the things he did when looking at the dead body of Officer Bernat or any other victim. This was someone he loved...

Looking at her, he realized that her voice wasn't the only thing he loved about her. He realized that the only reason he did love her voice was because it had life in it, something none of his music ever did. He realized that her voice was only so beautiful because she was... Regret flooded his mind as he realized how much he had hurt her, how much all this was his fault.

His voice broke off even though he was just humming, and a quick, silent sobs violently shook his body. She was dead... She was dead... The words danced around him, and teased him, leaving wounds no music could heal. Could he ever make music again? Ah, but none of that mattered. He didn't need to. There was no reason to. Before, he created music to pass time, sometimes, but sometimes it was to prove himself. He rarely admitted it, but on some nights he woke up, from another nightmare, another terrible memory, and rushed to one of his instruments, his beautiful music echoing through the cave, proving the enemies and demons of his mother, Mr. Mystic and everyone else wrong. Showing them what he could create.

He clutched her other hand, and sobbed silently, her hands in his, sorrow consuming him.

Suddenly he felt soft beating under her skin as he held her hands.

Surely, he must be going crazy. He saw how hard she hit the wall. He saw the way blood sprung out of the fresh wound. He saw it happen before, to his victims, and they never survived.

He quickly felt his own pulse, unsure of what to expect. He was still alive, but was she? He put his hand back onto her wrist, his body rigid with anticipation. Pulse.

He let go of her hand carefully and put his two fingers against her throat.

He sat for what seemed like hours, making sure that he was not hallucinating, until he was sure. She had pulse. She was alive.


	35. Waiting

Erik heard his own steps loud and clear as he ran back to the Opera House, with Christine Daaé in his arms. She was alive. He was sure.

He descended down the stairs, careful not to trip, afraid that he might harm her.

Erik knew he could take care of her. Living down in his lair, there wasn't much to do, and being an exceptionally good thief, Erik stole books from the Paris Library. He read all kinds of books, and sometimes, medical books, as well. He was no doctor, but he knew enough to bring her back to life.

On the other side of the lake, Erik carried Christine out of the boat and into the bed he designed especially for her after the first time he saw her. He laid her down on the bed and covered her with his cloak.

Erik cleansed her wounds, and tended after them twice a day. He gave her hot and cold compresses, depending on her temperature.

Sometimes Christine would wake up for ten minutes or so, and she would whimper and sob, but this was the only time Erik had to feed and give her water. He was grateful for the time he got, and with every time, her waking moments were longer and longer.

Erik didn't sleep while she was unconscious. He simply sat in front of her, staring at her face, checking her forehead for fever, changing the compresses. He felt he owed that to her.

That was another feeling Erik had never felt. He never owed anything to anyone.

But with Christine, it was different; he knew that he was one of the biggest reasons for all of her problems. And he was truly sorry for that. Raoul's suicide and Christine's injury made think more about himself than he ever did. And while Christine was lying, unconscious, he had time to think. Time to change. Without any human contact, there were no distractions.

Unfortunately, there was no music either. Except for his usual humming, Erik did not allow himself to come close to any of the instruments, as he knew that if starts he could barely stop himself. He knew he needed to keep a constant watch over Christine.

But sometimes, humming was all he needed. The quiet, melodious tunes that he hummed were pure. While he played an instrument, the music was automatically affected by his skills, and the sound of the instrument itself. But with his voice, it was different. It was simple.

All he could do was wait. Wait for her to wake up.


	36. Deja Vu

Christine woke up on her 8th night. Erik was, as usual, sitting in front of her, humming one of his favorite melodies. He was surprised to see her so composed, as usually she just cried and screamed before falling back asleep.

"Where am I?" Christine asked, her lips white from fear. "Who are you?" she demanded from Erik, her face serious and scared.

Confusion clouded Erik's mind. "Erik, I am Erik…" he said. Christine looked strangely at him, cocking her head in disbelief and muttering something under her breath.

"Christine, my name is Erik," he repeated.

"Christine!" she gasped. "Yes," she said, tears rushing to her eyes. "Erik!" she screamed and threw her arms around him, hugging him tight to her chest. "Erik what happened?"

"Raoul pushed you and you hit your head," Erik murmured, stroking her hair next to her scar.

Christine silently raised her hand to her head and felt the scar, immediately recoiling and clutching her hand to her chest. "Raoul…" she said, "Raoul…" she repeated, as if trying to remember. "Raoul!" her voice became louder as recognition dawned upon her. "Yes…" she said, barely audible. "Erik… where is Raoul?" she murmured, gently.

"Christine," Erik said, slightly leaning back from her amorous hug, "he's dead." He finished.

Her face crumpled up with pain as her eyes started watering. "No, no, no…" she whispered. "No!" she screamed, hitting the bed with her clenched fists.

Erik watched her helplessly.

"Christine, it is alright. I love you, and it will all be all right," he murmured softly, but didn't touch her.

Suddenly she jumped away from him, scooting to the far end of the bed, covering her face with her hands. Sobs escaped her lips and she rocked her body back and forth.

Erik felt deep pain. This was how he felt when he thought that she had died. It was, indeed, the most terrible feeling he had ever felt. And now, he had to watch his beautiful Christine go through the same.

He hoped with all his heart that she could get over his death. He knew that he could never get over hers, but he had no one else to help him through. She had him…

He knew that he had changed. Enough for her to love him, and not live in fear of him killing her one night. Of course he was not perfect, he was still a maniac, but at least she was safe with him. She was the one person he would never kill. Never harm…

But, surprisingly, Christine suddenly raised her head, wiping away her tears. She cocked her head to one side, and then to the other, and then all of a sudden Erik saw confusion and fear fill her eyes.

She almost fell off the bed trying to get as far away from him as possible. He looked at her, puzzled, not understanding what was going on. A second ago she was sobbing because of the death of Raoul. Now she looked clueless…

She raised her head and her eyes met his.

"Where am I?" she asked, clutching her knees. "Who are you…" she whispered, panic in her voice.

"I… I don't understand…" Erik muttered, "Christine, it's me. Christine?"

"Christine… That's my name!" Recognition flashed across her face. She looked helpless. Lost.

Erik shook his head once more, "Christine, I don't understand…" his voice trailed off. He did understand. He had read enough medical books to understand. But somehow, he wished he didn't.


	37. Happily Ever After

"What is this place!"? Christine screamed. She felt memories coming back to her, haunting her, toying with her mind. She could not think straight, her mind was cloudy, she felt like she knew nothing and everything at the same time. Erik walked to her, sleepily.

"Christine, come back to bed, we can talk about it in the morning," he said, knowing what the answer would be. He had heard it dozens of times before.

"Christine… that is my name!" she whispered in recognition. At least one thing made sense now. Suddenly her expression changed completely as she whispered, "You killed Raoul…" her lips went pale, and she grimaced in pain. Tears welled up in her eyes and a single sob escaped her lips.

"No, Christine, I did not," Erik said sleepily.

Christine's eyed widened in fear, "You did not?" she demanded, confused and baffled. "Raoul is dead…" she muttered, as realization dawned upon her. Another memory popped into her mind, the memory of Raoul pushing her, Erik's face in the window… "No!" she screamed, her body trembling. She fell, holding her head in her hands, memories confusing her, teasing. She hated it. She remembered random parts. Random feelings. Random faces. She couldn't put anything together… everything was a mess. As hard as she tried, nothing made sense.

"Christine, Christine," Erik sung as he ran to her, and held her in his arms while she sobbed.

"Erik… Erik tell me what happened!" she cried

Erik sighed. He had told this story so many times… He closed his eyes, inhaled, and began. "Christine, Raoul was in a terrible fire accident. The whole Chagny house burned down. Not many survived. You happened to be close to the door, so you escaped. But when you were running away from the house, you tripped, and you fell. And you hit your head, really hard," Erik smiled, stroking her scar.

"Fortunately, I was close. I brought you here and I took care of you," Erik smiled. This was a lie he had told her many times. But it was not to fool her, or to make her love him. It was a white lie, that he made up because he knew, he could never understand what she was going through, and the lie would be easier to accept than the bitter truth. Her mind accepted the lie easily, creating false memories of the so-called fire, welcoming the lie, preferring it to the truth. The memory of Raoul pushing her, one of the only real memories in her head, slowly drifted away, forgotten.

"Erik, what is wrong with me now?" Christine looked up, and stared into his eyes.

Erik sighed and continued. "Sometimes… you remember nothing. Not even your name… But at other times, memories haunt you, some returning and some not, confusing you, teasing you… Some nights you wake up screaming, remembering _everything_… Sometimes I hear you whisper Raoul's name, over and over again…" Erik coughed gently, choking on his words, tears rushing to his eyes.

"Oh…" Christine whispered, lost in thought. She sat, wrapped in Erik's arms, lost in her own thoughts, trying to figure out what was going on, what all of these memories meant. _Sometimes I hear you whisper Raoul's name... Over and over again... _ Christine winced. That must have hurt Erik so badly! "But you? You love me, right Erik?"

Erik sighed, and smiled. "Always," he murmured, stroking her scar once more.

Suddenly, new memories appeared, confusing her, and old memories were lost. She tried, she really did try to get them back, try to remember them, but they were just like a dream you can't seem to remember in the morning, slipping through her fingers.

When the fog cleared, she found herself wrapped in the arms of a strange skinny man, so she pushed away from him, immediately. She struggled to regain her memory. Any memory… This place looked familiar but at the same time she knew nothing of it. The man looked like someone she once met, but she couldn't remember who. His face was disfigured and his eyes were yellow but he had a very kind look on his face. Not knowing what else to do, Christine decided to ask him, maybe he would have an explanation,

"Where am I?" she demanded quietly. "And... and who are you?" she added.

The man looked tired. He sighed deeply. Even though the man was smiling, his smile was very sad. The man himself looked very sad. Christine wanted to ask him what was wrong but she knew she needed to find out where she was first.

"Christine, you are home," the man said. _Christine!_ That was her name. She knew it was her name because a memory of an old man suddenly came into her mind. The old man was singing about a girl name Christine who was very beautiful. The man had kind eyes that looked at her lovingly. Something told her that she would never see this man again… And then the memory was gone.

"Christine…" she said, trying to bring back the memories. "Who are you?" she asked the skinny man. But instead of saying anything, the man just walked towards her. She tried to turn and run but she was surrounded by walls. She wanted to scream but she knew there was no one there to hear her.

Suddenly, the man wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet. She wanted to protest but it all felt very familiar. "I am Erik. I love you. And you are home," the man said and kissed her, on her lips. She wasn't sure she could trust him… _Raoul!_ A name popped into her mind, but in seconds it was gone again, disappearing without a trace. She shook her head, trying to figure out what was going on.

Then, the man carried her to a bed, and without letting her go, lay with her. She wanted to get out of the bed, to run away from him, but the man started singing a strange song that she knew very well. The song comforted her, and somehow, the situation didn't seem so strange after all. The man continued singing until she fell asleep, and the memories slowly left her alone, as if they were, too, soothed by the man's voice.

Erik held Christine in his arms as he fell asleep. He sung to her as she did, as he knew that it was the only thing that calmed her with such effect. She fell asleep in his arms, and he felt her heartbeat slow.

Twelve years had passed since the day Raoul de Chagny died. Since the day that Christine hit her head against the wall and got selective amnesia. Even though they were both much older, the memories never left her for a second. They were fresh in her mind, as if it all happened yesterday. Erik took down all the mirrors in his lair after Christine caught a glimpse of herself in one of them and nearly had a heart attack. And he didn't blame her. He could never imagine how hard it would be to wake up remembering nothing and everything and looking twelve years older than you were yesterday.

But things were not so bad. Erik was mostly happy. Of course, he felt sorry for Christine, but seeing her every day made him elited. Through all of the confusion in her eyes Erik saw his old Christine, and that was enough for him. The old Christine returned sometimes, although she did not speak. Whenever Erik sung her her favorite tune, the old Christine would come back. Erik could see it in her eyes.

At times, Christine was happy. She had her good days and her bad days. On her bad days she could loose her memory five or six times a day.

But sometimes an episode lasted the whole day, which were Christine's good days, as Erik had to tell her the story about the fire only once, and they could have the rest of the day to themselves.

At first, lying to her saddened him, and he sometimes cried while telling her the story of the accident. But remembering all the times he tried to tell her the truth, remembering her awful cries and angered sobs, he decided that to lie would be the right thing to do.

Erik hadn't killed in over twelve years. Usually, that would have left a gap in his soul, but with Christine by his side, it was different. He didn't want to kill anymore. As long as Christine was alright, Erik didn't need anything but her.

Erik also noticed that with each day, his own insanity seemed to be drifting away. He remembered that before Christine, before the "accident", his mind worked different. He killed, cut himself, did drugs, and raped dead bodies on the daily basis. But now, none of that seemed important. All of these things felt like something he did a long time ago, before he found something better, more important to do. Something that truly made him happy. Opium and necrophilia only gave him the illusion of happiness, but Christine... Christine made him feel needed. And that was the best feeling he had ever felt.

Sometimes, Erik would get out of bed in the middle of the night and play on his piano, losing himself in the music. On some nights, Christine joined him, and even though she remembered nothing, she trusted him, as the music called to her, and she sung together with him, in the dark. As she sang on those special nights, Erik cried, his teardrops hitting the keys. That's when he knew the old Christine was with him. Her voice was the same, so beautiful, so innocent...

Erik finally got his lifetime with Christine Daaé, and he was grateful. It was not perfect, but he was with her, and she was with him, lighting up his world each day. And that was all that mattered to him.

The End


End file.
